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.......