I don't know, should I feel the
warmth when I feel cold?
Should I stay if the eyes take of
their gaze off me?
Would I stop trying
if I haven't yet started?
Could I pick it up
if there's still a piece of me?
The cold breeze
of summer comforts me.
My reflection is the only one
who's there for me.
Along the way,
my scruffy footsteps are left,
Seems telling me it is where I left
the pieces of me.
Maybe, I should pick up
those pieces,
And gather all of it together.
If I couldn't, then,
I should find myself,
Before I ambition others
to find me.
YOU ARE READING
Unheard Words
Puisi"Tʜᴇ sᴀᴅ ᴘᴀʀᴛ ɪɴ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ɪs ᴛʜᴀᴛ, ᴡᴇ ɢᴇᴛ ɪɴsᴘɪʀᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴏᴜʀ sᴜᴄᴄᴇss ᴀɴᴅ ғᴀɪʟᴜʀᴇ. Iғ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ɪs ɴᴏɴᴇ, ᴡᴇ ᴄᴀɴɴᴏᴛ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ᴀ sɪɴɢʟᴇ ᴡᴏʀᴅ." -- Unheard Words *Unheard Words is a collection of poems written in English. Disclaimer: Photo used in the cover is not m...
