Changes. they are cunning things
like a flood in paradise
the subtle flow corrupts its way
a solid rock is split in two
entwine we did, for many years
then slowly fell from friendship
but none would feel so torn and hurt
as we once did as sisters
few around us saw our feud
but hatred outranks past
so many days fall down to dust
we now breath only ash
friends do come and friendship goes
but our breakup wasn't fair
Change, that scheming force of nature
sentenced us to rivals
we stand alone beside each other
back to back but bound
these shackles are our conflict zones
…
We do not speak in battle.
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And the soul outwears the breast,
And the heart must pause to breath
-George Gordon Byron
My poetry
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comment to get comments
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And the soul outwears the breast,
And the heart must pause to breath
-George Gordon Byron
My poetry
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