Black, Black, Black
Black hair, clothes, and heart,
They jab their finger into my chest,
Shouting mixed words,
Of understanding and miscommunication,
I say I'm smiling on the inside,
This image is for mourning,
They inquire why,
Why black?
black, black, black,
For those we don't notice,
Those we hurt,
Ye with little faith,
The heartbroken,
The beaten,
The god smacked,
The hated,
The unloved,
Those Who don't know,
...
in other words...
Those never knew you.
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The heart dies a slow death, shedding each hope like leaves. Until one day there are none.
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Inverno houra Roselia
Community Member |
