How many tears have I shed?
In order to survive in the world of the undead
How many books have I read?
Just to satisfy them with my brain overfed
How many words do I have to endure?
My hearts broken pieces I could picture
How many times do I have to face failure
My emotions anytime it could rupture
The finest hours is when I'm crying
Deep within enjoying
My emotions all are playing
Tape I would use for mending
Almost gone, now I'm fearing
I'd lose myself, now I'm dying
My soul is gone, now it's flying
Like a bird so mighty, it's soaring
I've escaped but what's it's worth?
A soul in it's finest hour
January, 2020
YOU ARE READING
An Unfinished Book of Poem
PoetryThis is a book of poems made by yours truly. Since it's quarantine and I've been bored, even if I had my modules, I made some poems. This is literally my way to escape some problems so I'd appreciate if you read this. Thank you!
