What am I? I do not know,
Haunted by pages within, the soul's debut.
Who am I? That answer remains concealed,
Your embrace, once warm, now makes me chilled.
Fear not, for I'll erase these thoughts of us,
As I journey on, leaving behind the fuss.
A new chapter awaits, the past I'll transcend,
In the end, I'll discover who I am, my friend.
YOU ARE READING
It's Still 12a.m.
PoetryAs the clock's final whisper embraced the dying day, darkness enveloped my room. Raindrops danced upon the fog-kissed windowpane. In the gentle glow of a dimmed lamp, I sat at my table, pen poised to capture the thoughts that flowed from the depths...
