I Write Poetry
The ambiguity of a broken heart spins like a lost compass, searching again for true north.
With emaciated spirits, atrophied hopes, disheveled minds, reprehensible dreams,
clandestine faith, and gaunt love,
The weary wayward wanderers in their congruent dejection learn to navigate by the stars.
With emaciated spirits, atrophied hopes, disheveled minds, reprehensible dreams,
clandestine faith, and gaunt love,
The weary wayward wanderers in their congruent dejection learn to navigate by the stars.