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I am a dead soul
But from my death have been born masterpieces
For the death of a writer only brings tales to flourish
The more I whither, the better I can describe what death really feels like
Of two eyes wide open, with a glimpse of light on them yet empty
Of a body that exists and breaths still, yet it ended up being only a cage to the soul.
For it keeps me in this world, it chains me away from peace.
It lulls me with hopes.
Like a writer that uses a pen to create, my body uses my dying soul.
And that's how masterpieces are made.
That's how a single book ends up having so much value.
Because it literally has pieces of the aches of my soul all over its pages.
It has me. And words and feelings I never had the chance to utter in this world.
For none used to listen, until I was dead.
YOU ARE READING
Poems
PoetryShort poems Written by me Just a book to express my poetic tries 😂 (credit to the rightful owners of the gifs used in the book)
