The tears flowed down along with the river of my thoughts, as it felt like a storm that is so bizarre.
The moon saw my back with piercing swords, but why did it only help the shining stars?
The wind knew how burnt the forest of my heart was, but its pressure was enough proof that nothing ever lasts.
I still remember how we both loved playing the guitar, but who knew such melody could leave more painful scars.
YOU ARE READING
A Lonely Poet's Mind
Poesia"Sometimes I wonder, am I actually pretty like they say? Or are they only saying that to make me feel better because they know I see myself in a different way? Am I the main lead in the story, but everyone prefers the second lead? But this isn't a b...
