You weren't bad,
No even good.
You weren't sad,
But not happy as well.
You weren't noisy,
Still not quiet.
You weren't cold,
Or even warm.
You weren't a black hearted,
Nor a white hearted.
You weren't a gray storm,
Hell not a sunny bright day.
You weren't just a boy,
But you were just like any other boy.
You weren't nothing but an empty hole,
Whom I found artistic.
Maybe because I was empty myself,
And that made me creative.
Little did I know,
That my creativeness created a self destroying love,
And that your hole made you a monster,
In a very artistic way.
YOU ARE READING
My Other Side
PoetryI gathered all of my writings in here. The writing I wrote while everyone is sleeping. These writings are my other side. The other side that no one ever knew.
