Shitty Poems

🖤

In the quiet shroud of a dim-lit room,
Where shadows weave tales of unspoken gloom,
A girl lays trapped in her own quiet storm,
Heart heavy with doubt, a soul far from warm. 
The mirror reflects a thousand lost dreams,
Fading like whispers in soft, broken seams.
Her laughter feels distant, a ghost in the haze,
As she sifts through the echoes of sun-soaked days. 
In the depths of her thoughts, a tempest does brew,
Questions like daggers, piercing right through,
"Where is the light? Where does hope go to hide?
Is there purpose in pain, or just darkness inside?" 
With a tremor, she takes that blade to her skin,
A release for the sorrow, the aching within.
Marks like confessions, unfinished and raw,
Each scar tells a story she dares not explore. 
Yet, in the stillness, she craves for a sign,
A flicker of faith, a thread that could bind,
But heavens are silent, as if lost in the mist,
Leaving her grasping for something, for bliss. 
So the hours creep by, a slow, endless crawl,
As she drifts through her thoughts, answering none's call.
Yet in moments of twilight, when darkness retreats,
A flicker—just maybe—there's hope in defeats. 
For even in sorrow, a seed can take flight,
Transforming the shadows into breaks of light.
And though she may falter, each dawn holds a chance,
To weave a new story, to learn how to dance. 
So, sweet girl of the night, as you lay there confined,
Remember that even the lost can still find,
That life's painted canvas, though tattered and frayed,
Can burst into color, if only you stayed.