— POEM 𝒃𝒚 Abedi Mirielle
Every moment we sing a song,
That isn’t composed.
But a song that’s full of mourning,
A mourning that has a flow of moans.
Every moment we sing a song,
That isn’t composed.
But a song that’s full of mourning,
A mourning that has a flow of moans.
Sun rises with shines,
That could rise beauties of the sky,
Birds flies higher and higher,
But I can’t see the sweet of the world,
Every day when sunrises,
It rises with a new chapter of my pains,
You told me to be patience,
But have failed to be mom.