Sometimes,
I write little poems,
To give myself hope,
And then realise,
How utterly childish they sound,
And decide to keep my mouth shut.
I can't really write poems about beautiful people,
Love, or flowers, like others,
But I can write about my hopes,
Or how the wind rustles the branches of a tree,
And then hide them, under my pillow when I sleep.
They're comforting,
But short,
Why can't I write about something that can save me?
Why can't I write about something that can fix all of the shattered pieces and make me whole?
Why am I holding myself back from healing?
I say that others are at fault- they did this to me, but I'm just making it a whole lot worse.
Sometimes,
I wake up and cry,
In the middle of the night,
About how it's all my fault,
But then I lift up my pillow and read those poems,
And I fall asleep clinging onto the pages filled with hope.
YOU ARE READING
Swallows- A Poetry Collection
Poetry~My heart soars with the swallows... ~ Swallows- "Peaceful, Loving and full of Hope..." - What I wish I could be... ~This is a collection of the words I was never able to say~ Thank you to everyone who reads thi...
