I'm sitting on my bed
Trying to write
I'm holding a pen
I stay awake 'till midnight
Because I have no clue
What I should write about
I overthink everything but when it would be helpful
My mind isn't loud
I sit in class
And write something down
Something that makes me realize
How much I hate this town
Who could write something good
In this fucked up place
I've been trapped in here
For too many days
I need to get out
And stay where I belong
Where I can write what I want
And it can't be wrong
I'd sit on a bench
And stare at the moon
When I ask when my writing will be good enough
I wouldn't hear "soon"
'Cause there was no one to tell me
What's wrong and what's right
And I'd feel free
Even in the longest night.
So I wrote this because I wanted to write something again but I didn't know about what. It ended up pretty ok for that.
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YOU ARE READING
Poem Collection
PoesíaHere are the poems I've written and sometimes little backstories about why I wrote them. Enjoy my art :)