His words are smooth
His style is crisp
Any woman would fall for his succulent shine
Yet despite it all he is cold
With a hard outward shell he tries to protect himself
What he doesn't see is the drugs in which he hides causes more bruises and pain
As i begin to dig for his true core he bleeds
I feel the pain of his cold roots
I dig deeper and deeper searching for the heart I that his beat belongs to.
Within his core is a star
In the reality of it he has the most satisfying gift of all
The gift of life
The gift of love
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The gift of love is the gift of life! Nice work.