It's like I should not speak at all.
When I mouth it,
it always seem like a wrong word.
And when I try to fool around like everybody else,
it always seem to go off track.
My lips tend to feel buzzed or perhaps numb
maybe because I'm surrounded by the wrongs
or maybe because I'm cursed to not talk at all.
But then again,
what about my existence?
Or my value,or my brilliance?
It seems like it's only me in my area of my small stance.
YOU ARE READING
OLD FILMS IN POETRIES
PoetryIt's a film in poetry─A little lively,a little sad,a little death,a little pleasure,a little desire and wishes,a little rest and a little nurturing.
