Heartstrings Of The Broken

'Pick the lute of my heart
And play until the last string breaks
All the falsh note that it will give out
Will hurt your ears
Like thousands of 'singing' crows, they'll be your howling fear
Through your mind the sound will grow and proliferate
Like wild flowers based on poisoned tears
You will wish you'd be only an empty vase
Together we break and together we raise
Just pick the lute and sever the strings

by Alyssa ArtsLover

Comments (2)

Teachers we love you, nice poem this