Pain in Poems
Someone asked me once how did I do it—wrote something so painful that it even brought heaviness on her chest upon reading its words.
I answered her after a silent laugh.
"Before the piece pained you, it first pained me. The pain is originally found in me but since I bled it through words, the paper became its host. Every single being that dares to read, feels the curse of it; feels the misery all over it."
Reach us here:
Facebook | @e.pleuvoir
Instagram | @E.Pleuvoir
Wattpad | @EosPleuvoir
Gmail | eospleuvoir@gmail.com
YOU ARE READING
He Who Cried Words
PoetryYou made my eyes cry but never of tears. You stabbed my chest but it never made me bleed. When you broke me apart, you just gave life to an art. When you broke my heart, you only fueled me to write. -E. Pleuvoir Cover made with canva
