trapped on this quagmire
touched by the fire
it's not some words
that is satire
"why do i feel tired?"
i've walked a mile
together with a smile
burning all the file
i said to myself,
"please shatter all my tiles"
i always looked up to the skies
"when can i be the poem?
and not the poet?"
but all i showed were lies
so i cried where it ties
help me get me away
from madness took me
on these toxicity
where they ate me
please take me
YOU ARE READING
sleepless nights
PoetryEvery night, I think, I write and cry. All of my sleepless nights, I became more productive, self-harming, leaving scars on me. After all of that, I realized and told myself, "Do you think all of that was worth it?" While my tears crawling down my f...
