Couple of months had passed,
Still her hand shuddered...
With failures,fears and frustrations,
In holding another pen to scribble her emotions.
She forgot how to play with words,
Having hard times putting a course,
Can't let go a proper phrase
Believing that she'll never be one of the ace.
Found comfort in writing,
Shed tears through poetries,
Her rhythms and musics are the words she rhymed
When it feels like the world is on its darkest time.
Now she wanted to compose a song of her own for one last time.
But how can she write again,
With words she neglected before,
When stanzas were buried forcefully
On a grave of infinity?
She already have inks to fill,
Paper to make another piece
Hands poured with sweat
A time waisted not to spill.
But sadly, she's now a writer with a broken pen,
And forgot how to start a mean.
YOU ARE READING
Her Tears are Poetries
PoetryPain changes someone's out-breathing. Instead of telling, she kept her pain through poetries. She let her tears into words as agonies bled blood in her soul.
