I glared into the centre of the painted blue skies,
with a hopeful heart that I'd one day find love.
My shadow's touch could not comfort my eyes,
it is emptier than my heart and it's forever broken trust.
Walked on like a door mat, shattered like glass,
it despises and fears to open itself once again.
It hopes for no future driven away by it's past,
with a belief that there will never be a cure for it's aching pain.
Solitude is all it's ever known as it takes shelter in chest,
surrounded and engulfed by darkness that never rests.
It questions why it has always faced trial and test,
as claimed by those who comfort it to remove doubt from head.
The same answer as repeated, It must continue to wait,
for it has yet to meet the one chosen by fate.
Confused, how much more must it bleed and take,
before said right one appears to cool fiery blaze?
It screams in pain that rips the fabric of the universe,
with poetry written that provokes tears in every verse.
It's agony felt in every single blood shadowed word,
it humbles the very heavens and quakes this shallow world.
Death himself pains for this heart's suffering is beyond it,
taking away it's aching rhythms would not silence it.
The angels called upon it and it no longer responded,
the very lights fear to approach with intentions to enlighten it.
It is now in a state succeeding death and end,
there is no possible healing cure to regenerate.
No amount of love, not even by the grace of a friend,
It would not revive should even the soul meditate.
It is devastated and all sonnets have been serenaded.
to placate it would be the same screech resonated.
The memories that destroyed it once again emulated,
repeating once more forcing the world to quake to what it emanated.