Loved,
What does it take to be loved?
How much does it have to ache?
How many bones do I have to break?
How many lies do I have to live?
How much sorrow do I have to spill?
Is there any way to make something true?
Will I ever hear the words;
I love you?
Well even if I won't,
I'm not scared,
I can love myself,
At least I'm always here.
'Cause I shouldn't risk my life,
Or feel like a demand,
Love should come naturally,
That little I understand.
YOU ARE READING
Dust of the untold
شِعرYet another poem collection, Ready to be free, Words written down by a stranger, Some scars you just got to see. A collection of hearts, A bucket of sorrow, A box of pain and my deepest thoughts. These are untold stories, From a closed soul, and a c...
