my pen bleeds onto the page,
as i look for the words to say scrambling in my brain,
the page is no longer beige,
filled with all my words of simple pain,
tears will well up within my eyes,
and my cries will slowly soften,
and my page is short of nothing but lies,
and these words will soon create my coffin.
where i'll lay and i'll stay,
with my eyes shut tightly,
as my words refuse to move from bay,
they'd normally fall from my mouth so lightly,
as if feather from a bird falling to the ground,
or the quill of a pen smoothly against a journal,
but now they're nowhere to be found,
like popcorn from an unpopped kernel.
i can dig and try to find,
and i can look for the words to complain,
but my mind goes blind,
and i'll simply sigh from my painful disdain.
YOU ARE READING
Kalopsia.
PoetryKalopsia • Noun ; The state in which everyone and everything looks beautiful. ✧一 一一 一一 一一 一一 一一 一一 一一 and here the words will bleed onto the page of each separate chapter in my mind, and the words will fall so effortlessly out of my eyes. 一 一一 一一...
