I gave up on speaking my issues long ago.
I realised, no one listens.
Instead I began to drink down pots of ink,
Like black tainted shots of vodka,
Getting drunk on poetry.
I shoved blank pages into my black stained mouth,
Maybe I do not need to speak?
If I spit out the paper in my mouth,
How many people will listen?
Would they read my sorrow
If the paper was taken from my cold,
Black mouth?
They'd all listen to the words of a dead girl.
-I would be a tragedy.
-Mel 🖤
YOU ARE READING
Shades of the heart
PoesíaThis is my second poem book. The first one started off with really bad poems but got gradually better, but by then people hated my poems and deleted the book from their library, lol. The first book is called shades of the mind.
