Desperate times
Call for desperate measures
I write this down right now, right here
Because I want to see how my handwriting
looks.
Look,
In this funny thing called life
What is it even, to be taken so seriously
What is me, even
to worry, fear, cry about.
I have been longing to cry
One good time
See what it feels, to feel those feelings
Manifest a flow down my cheek
I can't cry about that though.
So, here it is,
I once dived into myself
And it's been a great fall
Feels like I have been falling forever
Now I know nothing else,
than to keep falling.
YOU ARE READING
No Point Talking.
PoetryThere is no point talking about it. In fact, there is nothing to talk about. So, what do we have? This is not classical poetry. It is not contemporary either. The words used are simple to mean what they intend. Sentences are easy and sensible. Yet...
