Tell me,
What kind of feeling is this?
What kind of energy is this?
Here, in my bedroom.
Is it sadness? Emptiness?
Where every single thing I hide,
The heartbreak, the endless tears.
No matter where is it,
On the floor, in the closet,
And mostly on this cold mattress.
The memories were still vivid,
Still freshly,
Remembered.
YOU ARE READING
Color Of Life (A Collection)
PoetryMy mind keep thinking, thinking until I can't feel again. This will be never-ending, but who knows if one day I'll give up, it's the day I can feel right again, it's the day I feel like my story is enough. . . . "What if someone's heart want to live...
