I spill thoughts,
Into an empty wall.
Where once blossomed,
Daffodils and tulips-
And not cracks and scars.
Detrimental trauma,
And malevolent intention.
As if I was a leaking pen-
Who didn't spill visions,
Rather spilled black ink.
I never coloured an ocean.
But I did colour the tsunamis in it.
But why would I do that?
I wasn't heartsick:
Rather obsessed'
In poetry.
In which I expressed distress.
Not cause I feel it;
But cause I want to.
Cause after all I'm
A broken pen.
~Krishna~
YOU ARE READING
Truly Beautiful
PoesíaI can't see past you, But i'm too scared to make a move! A short book of poetries that you can relate to ig? By- Krishtastic (Krishna) (#1 on newera) (#1 on spilled thoughts)
