As I lay in bed staring at the ceiling,
I wonder why my heart has this feeling.
In pain but in love,
Mended by the whitest dove.
Was torn again into shreds,
by the words the past had said.
The happier I get,
The harder I fall.
The more that the past will let,
The troubles grow tall.
So
I lay here tonight,
tears rolling down,
I can see the light,
But it cannot be found.
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Original Poetry
PoesíaThese, well these are my poems. My thoughts, my feelings, my everything. Please read and give any feedback, but keep it at least a little nice. I'm trying to get out there and this is a step forward to getting there. These poems are all original an...
