Once the candles melted, the fire was gone
And the fragile papers were torn
In the sky, the moon shone yellow
And a message flew under my ghost
Said, "No one listens to my sad songs."
I write, I read
I wait, and I believe
I give, then I bleed
All I did was to be paralyzed on the ground
To wait for you to just hear the beat and the sound
To be lost, and I'm not foundl always thought of being stuck in a place forever
So frightened, I can shatter during a storm
Yet I stand still
Waiting for the last drop of rain to conquer
My mind, my heart, and broken bones
I refuse to surrenderI wait for things that are impossible
I wasted sadness, I lost controls
I dedicate a planet—I received a stone
And my efforts went to a broken home
So then I continue to wait
Wondering if someone will make me feel
The feeling that they appreciate
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YOU ARE READING
for the betterment of us
PoetryIt will always be for the betterment of us. Every poem is.