it feels like going round,
and round,
and,
round.
you can hear the desperation dripping down my words,
all of the sentences formed upon the feelings that i stored.
letters by letters they link altogether,
trying to find the missing pieces behind the laughter.
my mind wonders what have i done wrong,
and it's not like i haven't think about it for so long.
i'm not a cliché i don't do drama,
but somehow i'm in it as if asking for drachma.
my smile falters my laugh dies down,
my head hung low losing its own crown.
i'm no one to judge i'm not the one to be judged,
we misinterpreted things but everyone holds their grudge.
my silent cry my trembling sob,
words stuck to my brain through a pair of earlobes.
it may sounds pathetic but i'm not denying it,
because it probably is and sometimes i feel like a misfit.
through the soul i feel and the brain i think,
for all the reasons that i fell and all the emotions that start to shrink.
but there's always a little light in the darkest dark,
growing up a hope of endeavouring my deepest dream without a remark.
maybe i'm not a blank white sheet with no stratch,
for i'm a proud crumpled up paper that is stitched with patches.
and i assure you to just
sit back
relax
enjoy
the show.
-gc
[a golden drachma, give it away for a little drama]
written in august 7th, 2017
YOU ARE READING
august.
Poetry4 weeks, equal 31 days, equal 744 hours, equal 44,640 minutes, equal 2,678,400 seconds, equal 1 month. aloha, august ----- i write one poetry everyday until the end of august :) lowercase intended! ;) copyright @ghxxna cover by @ghxxna
