Floating Words, Floating Rhymes

GONE

Forget about the frustrated writer

She's dead now

You killed her with the sharp knife of your words

You blocked her with your offensive criticism

You murdered her with your rants

Soon, she'll be buried under her grave

Above the grave is a crumpled paper with frozen tears in it

And a bunch of dried red roses which resembles the hate

A burning candle sobbing at the midst of the evening

You'll be hearing the teardrops as if someone's mourning and crying

But no one will be there

No one knows that she's already gone

And her poetries will never ever come

Nobody knows that there are no more pages to turn

No more books to open

No more ink to pour

It's now over.

You burn out the crumpled paper in the fire of anger and insecurities

And now turned to ashes landed over her grave

The crickets, they'll be here to toast with you

To celebrate your success at the moment you'll see the view

Coz the old writer can't come back anymore

You made her this way, dead, broken and you don't make her stay

You broke her heart into tiny million pieces

It'll take a million times just to put it again and be the original pieces

Nobody knows when will she come back

There's nothing left in the grave but the pen run out of ink and a blank paper filled with dusts

Now don't pray for her real comeback anymore

You'll only gonna hate her when she's here

Yet you'll gonna miss her when she's gone.

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