Poetry come from the highest
happiness or deepest sorrow,
You can't wait for the future
or you're dreading tomorrow,
Your mind is at ease
Or you're begging it please
To be quiet,
But quiet is viølent,
When you're stuck in your head
And you'd rather be dead
Than to sit there and think
Because you're on the brink
Of a total collapse
And possible relapse,
Of who you once were
And you know for sure,
You don't want to be that anymore,
You've just cleaned the floor
To remove all the stains,
And to hide all the pains.
YOU ARE READING
An Amalgamation of Words
PoesieI'm almost as bad at writing descriptions as I am at writing poems, but at least I tried. Sharing my inner turmoil, one poorly worded sentence at a time.
