By : Aemieinks
The pen once danced, a vibrant flame,
Words flowed freely, whispering her name.
But then the whispers turned to scorn,
Sharp barbs of judgment, cruelly born.
The ink dried up, the page went blank,
A silence settled, a heavy tank.
The writer's heart, once full of light,
Now shrouded in shadows, lost in the night.
The pen, once a friend, now a heavy weight,
Words, once vibrant, now filled with hate.
The writer's heart, once open and bold,
Now locked away, a story untold.
YOU ARE READING
Poems from the heart
Poetry" if a writer falls inlove with you, you can never die." - A short poem collection by yours truly. Disclaimer : I'm really not that good at poetry so please bare with me. You may also encounter typographical and grammatical errors.
