Those words full of rage,
Filling a whole page.
Describing my story,
The secret it holds.
That face of kindness,
Behind which was loneliness.
But nobody was there,
Exept from that one thing.
Their eyes were void,
Inner emotions were solid.
Everything was filled,
Inside that script.
It was locked away,
In a cage that would not sway.
Keys were with them
So it was secure.
Their life was a mystery,
A tad bit of history.
That only it knows,
And only it will.
Non tradable it was,
And it had a cause.
To be a friend,
Like the one they never had.
Control that they had,
Though inside they were sad.
It vanished away,
As soon as they saw it.
With them is a treasure,
Much to their pleasure.
They are forever thankful,
For that Diary.
~Arsh
YOU ARE READING
LIFE- A Gift?
PoesíaLIVING- It's one thing we all do. Our lives are not the same but we still live. Some see things others can too but differently that's what makes life different. One poem per chapter. The cover does not belong to me.
