The gold in my ring rusts
The tears of a crocodile I trust,
In my dreams, I see the butterfly,
Sitting on my bleeding wrists,
Turning into a caterpillar,
The moon, all Grey, cries
Long melancholy sigh it sighs,
To everything I turn a blind eye.
Blinder than ever is the wind,
He whispers sweet nothings,
Holier than holy is your name,
Written in the sand, forever
The seeds you sow in my eyes,
The love that grows from this palms,
The caterpillar crawls into the pupa,
Turning a blind eye to it all
Cheated by trust, golden bauble,
Raining sorrow, parody of truth,
Mocked by a dummy, painted beauty,
Cocooned in your arms, beautiful moth,
Crawling back into the egg, poignant,
Turning a blind eye, turning a blind eye
Spellbinding.........something different from ur poem.Enjoyed reading it...also felt the pain.
An enigmatic confluence of beauty, and woe...then, such is life, when you think about it, yes? ...Pictorial depiction is in feral blossom here, as you virtually place these vivid images within the nucleus of the Reader's mind's-eye. As per usual, very fine work, young lady...very fine, indeed! FjR /*\
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
fine poem, , , loved reading it, ,10