The Auther Of My Poem - Poem by Eman Awad
The author of my poem,
finds in pain so much mirth.
He killed all the laughters,
and gave my misery a birth.
I fell in love, but he made,
my very own heart be my hearse.
Forever chained with lonliness,
he let my life be my curse.
And when i went to find my destiny,
alone i was dying with eternal thirst.
I found neither love nor home,
shattered, wandering this universe.
Like an aerolite i fell,
like a comet i was burned,
And, away, i was sent from earth.
Now, horizon is bleeding,
and sun sets soon,
rotten roses with no future to blume.
The auther made out of my death,
such a tragic verse.
The auther of my poem,
found in my death the ultimate mirth.......
Comments about The Auther Of My Poem by Eman Awad
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You