My life trembles like the storm above.
Its dark gray colored skies reflect my eyes, giving everyone a chill everytime they see me near.
Sadly, I am just waiting for a light to shine through me.
But the truth is, I was the light. I used to shine to them; I used to make them happy, glorious and victorious under me.
But now that I am living with this storm within me, why did they choose to leave?
Am I drought to give the light to them?
Do they now love being underneath a stormy scheme?
Because if they do, I will be their storm to satisfy their sorrows;
I will torment their lives so they wouldn't think about grief again;
I will be the storm to devastate them and be inlove with pain.
Before, it was me who gave them the importance of light.
But maybe now,
only the storm
is what they needed
to be alive.
YOU ARE READING
POETRY THAT STAYS
PuisiYou don't really love someone, not until they become the person behind of your poetries. When poetry speaks, it echoes through your soul, lingers in your heart, and dances in your dreams. And... it stays. I wrote poems enough for people to ask, "w...
