It is so hard to be like this, No colors, full of boundaries.
Every highway feels like maze. Like a twisted labyrinth of haze.
It feels like I'm the only one, who can understand my degrees of lonesome. Yes, I am the only one, who can comprehend my own palm.
I feel like I'm a leftover on a table. A cold blue and grey belabor. But this wasn't me before. Before my life became a metaphor.
Before my smile became wrath and war. Before my beliefs became as dark as false.
I was a certain person way back then. Before they bomb my one and only den. That's why I rip my fend and I buried my old essence. To build it again - taller and wiser to defend my existence.
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Unfinish Plot
PoetryUnfinish Plot is a collection of poems that talks about past, sadness, love, and hope. It is written base on my everyday experiences - from what I see and what I feel in a certain situation. I hope that you can relate to every piece of this poem. ...
