Like a saviour amid turbulence,
rescuing from the accident by incidence.
To the dim eyes, she's like a magnifying lens,
extracting from our more and adding to our less,
to her, the lonely hearts bless.
She is the tall fence against the world,
the low fence between depression and her friend.
The strong resistance against speaking up,
the weak immunity to solitude.
The silent mouths see her as their defence.
She is the soothing music to the muse less,
the twin sister of inspiration,
the sound of the silent,
the glittering gold of the poor and rich,
the motivation that keeps the tired moving.
The wealth of the brokenhearted,
the riches of the punctured and tortured,
the voice of the voiceless,
the world of the companionless,
poetry is indeed the luxury of the broken-hearted.
This Post First Appeared Here.
Thank you for your time.
My pen doesn't bleed, it speaks, with speed and ease.
Still me,
My tongue is like the pen of a ready writer.
Olawalium; (Love's chemical content, in human form). Take a dose today: doctor's order.
