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A bleeding poem

Not my faults roses withers in gardens
Yet it bred two phases so hot and cold.

Forget bullets, apple kill angels
Fighting with weapons, bow and arrows

Not my fault broken hearts are torn belts
I am just a poet that draws a heat

Of the two faces of a love and hate
First or the last, hearts that bled will heal.

©2017 Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu
Image source: google


  1. Sonderwriter says:

    Love this poem so muchhh. So much incredible abstract ideas in this!!! And love the last line– what bleeds will ultimately heal!

    Liked by 2 people


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