I fixed a broken heart,
Instead my heart was broken.
It’s the form of modern art -
That hurts, where a part of me was stolen
I tried to live despite the pain,
And smile was always on my face.
But memories were holding me like chain
I didn’t feel that word, which you named grace.
And time passes by so fast,
You know it’s hard to find a good cure
It felt like a powerful blast,
Which now became obscure
But someone told me one day
You have to omit those hearts,
Which try to destroy your way
Cause they are not pictures but drafts.
Foolish drafts
© Copyright: Алина Субботина, 2021
Свидетельство о публикации №121121300518
Свидетельство о публикации №121121300518
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