How does it feel to empty your heart?
Build a home inside
Just to see it missing the dome?
Sickening.
Alone, I spend another evening,
Forcing my thoughts to ease.
There's no use in waiting.
Why do I still stay in
This broken home?
Why am I fine with getting soaked
Underneath the pouring rain?
In a broken house,
Away from my brain,
I wait for the owner
Who doesn't even know that she has a home.
Should I burn it down
Or wait until I drown?
YOU ARE READING
Wandering The Dark
PoesíaThe collection of the poems I've written thus far. They're mostly English, but there might be some Turkish ones too.
