The pain in his heart
If you only see him
Holding his heart with his hands
Trying to stop the bleeding
The flow of blood
Under his feet
You were there
You were so beautiful indeed
You were like the gushing wind
Merely passing him by
Not a glance
Not a sense of even a little
Touch of compassion
You were gone in such a very short moment
Like the wind rushing to somewhere
The edge
The shore the endless horizon
Some screams are heard on the earth
These are the blood from his heart
About to turn into stones
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Added by Poetry Lover
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