Somehow true love
Became a misplaced art,
It comes and goes
Just as the sun
And day departs,
What was once the
Driving nature of
Human kind,
Slowly shifted into
The dusty old painting
Shoved along the corner
In the dark,
Love isn't what exhaust
The heart,
It's the lack of faith
That we placed before
We gave love a chance
From the start
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
profound contemplation about love