It was a while I didn't write a poem. At least in English. I usually end up writing when I feel flooded of emotions and mostly at night. I came back at home tonight, and for a couple of reasons, my chest feels tight tonight. So here's something that allowed me to not burst.
A feeble ruth
Tell me: How much is worth a dream?
Tell me: How much is worth my smile?
I've been draggin' myself for a while
into a ravine with barely any gleam.
The restless try to glimpse a pale light
that day after day doesn't get more bright:
I don't know if you can call it tenderly pure
or you should label it as crudely immature.
I hear from the deep oceans a feeble ruth
through the quiet wind whispers its truth:
"It's written up in the sky
you can love till you die,
But no man should ever die
waitin' to be loved maybe a day"
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