She read a bounty of masterpieces,
written from the heart with such burning traces.
Her mind opened up,
on the things that they were writing,
her heart, almost to pop.
For such emotions maneuver her thoughts,
dragging her even at the darkest places,
places where she never saw,
she never even thought.
People all across the world,
write different kinds of story,
from the mind tattooed in a page,
ever new or lovingly old.
Written with such words that it colored her life by just a sight,
then on her life was cured that it radiated so much light.
That there came a day where no more was left,
so she sat by the corner and silently wept.
She helped a lot through her words and all,
but as soon as everyone got their own share,
not a single soul could she even call.
Its funny how one person made her feel so low,
pain and remorse were all she felt at each blow.
Someday she'll recover,
and all her glitches would be totally over.
But before anything else she could say,
please take care of her so she wouldn't be of complete disarray.
She deserves to be hugged and loved every time she falls,
this was the wish she always would chant through it all.
Alone she stood upon everyone's sight,
little did they knew she sat and wept all through the night.
Please offer her even a bit of your love,
for all her life,
it's all she ever dreamed to have.
-thessythes
(9/1/14 6:57 a.m)
YOU ARE READING
Never Sent (Completed)
PoetryIt was then she said: "Words fed, scathed, brought my soul together; and it would be preposterous if I'd get to feel all these sensations alone, so I am giving you a part of my suffering, a fragment of my universe, a debris of myself. Through these...
