In a world full of beauty and cruelty where feelings are unseen,
she was stuck somewhere in between.
No one really knew what she was thinking and how she felt like,
except for her delicate fingers that always catch her river of tears every night.
She once let the butterflies play with her flowers that have now withered and darkened,
since then, she had never shared her beautiful garden.
She only had the moon to tell all of her troubles and deepest secrets,
and so the moon taught her that even in the dark she can shine the brightest.
Even though she learned how to turn disharmony into a beautiful melody,
the instruments were too rusted for clarity.
The ocean cried for her as she continued to swim for the notes and fell deeper,
but she drowned in her thoughts like the melting ice in the glacier.
People plant seeds to grow more trees,
only for them to cut it up and leave them chopped up in the breeze.
The sun gives its warmth to the leaves in need of healing,
but nothing can ever cure a withered leaf's wounded feeling.
YOU ARE READING
A Lonely Poet's Mind
Poezja"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...
