I picked my brush and dipped it in the ink.
I started writing, but it didn't seem to link.
The words didn't seem to link, they didn't seem to fit.
I crumble the paper, and let the candle lit.
I could see better, I could write better.
I wrote on the pale paper, and started to write a letter.
It was late at night in the cold.
But I didn't seem to give up to bring up a beautiful word.
I was tired, so my eyes started to close.
But before that, I pour all my soul.
Into the paper I wrote this sentence,
"Goodbye cold,
Goodbye world."
N.Hetari
YOU ARE READING
Beyond The Thoughts
Poëzie[Completed] "We all have stories, some will tell, some will hide and some will just pour it all in a poem"
