It's pretty easy to imagine poems and ideas to write
But my pen won't work and my fingers refuse to type
They aren't tired
They want ideas unique with each new word flowing from above
They wish to cry with the characters and dance along with the melody they create
But it's hard sometimes you don't feel like typing
Your hand would go numb and stop ideas from flowing in your head
But they never actually stopped
They came but you refused to collect them
Like people you threw them away
Like trash
As if they didn't meant anything to you
But then you came begging back
Searching for them because you knew they were the best
YOU ARE READING
Words She Kept Under My Pillow
PoetryI looked at the butterflies surrounding my body They floated in air and smiled and decorated my skin with their wings They took flight with me in their arms I know its too unrealistic to be true They feared that fire might englobe me whole and ta...
