Hurt Poem by Old Teenage Poems
Hurt
It was the love for the quiet objects
that was the passion for me
The caress of not a human
but a books words, a records tones
and melodies
The kiss of not a woman nor a man
but the passion
from a black sky
Because the cold objects could
not hurt me
The way humans always do
Monday, January 7, 2008
Topic(s) of this poem: books,passion
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8/5/2026 4:47:25 AM # rel_20260803T153344Z_4267e77
Oh, dear... oh, dear... hurts and pain - yeah, humans can feel the pain. if only people don't hurt, there wd be no pain, only happiness and bliss - time will be when it'll be an utopia, sometime, sooner than later. Lets hope for it. Needless to say, quite an expressive poem! Good job, Agnes!