Help me
I can't
Do anything
Right
Anymore
I pour my
Blood into
A cup and
Dip my pens
In so I can
Make my poor
Poems popular
At 2 am
You can
Hear the
Sounds
Of art
Or maybe
Just naive
Writers that
Think they are
Good at something
For once in their life
All great writers
Have met someone
That they think are
Perfect in every
Way and when
They see that
The perfect person
Is good at what the
Writer does
The writer
Can no
Longer
Do what they
Do best
Without checking
How good
The perfect persons
Poems are
Poem by me
Thank you for reading
112 words
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𝙋𝙝𝙤𝙩𝙤𝙜𝙧𝙖𝙥𝙝𝙨
Thơ ca1:48 am "And with every drop of rain that hits the earth, I can hear your soulful voice echoing through my mind. Calm whispers of the wind, crashing along the sea, calming my every nerve. You are the air in my lungs and the words I speak. You are my...
