Do please sit,
While I tell you about me.
It has been a while since someone came,
And asked me how I feel.
Sometimes I feel like I can't breathe,
And everything hurts.
The lingering thoughts overwhelm me,
But I always somehow, end up feeling better.
The pain leaves its marks,
Like scars upon my skin.
They stay,
Take forever to fade,
Like damn stubborn ink.
And my heart aches and breaks,
I feel each crack and tear.
I might have made,
A million mistakes.
But to feel this pain, as a punishment,
It isn't fair.
But sometimes,
I feel okay.
Even happy.
Then I wish that I could hold onto that happiness forever.
Yet one can't be always happy,
Nor hurt.
A heart has a purpose to feel,
Like a brain has one to think.
I might feel, at times,
like I'm stuck in water,
And I'm scared, that like a fragile object,
I might sink.
But I don't.
Because I'm strong.
Though I feel pain in every inch of my body.
I feel my heart ache,
I feel stuck with unwanted memories in my head.
But with it all,
I still deal with.
So just don't go away yet.
Because I have tales to tell,
And secrets to share.
I feel like I can talk forever,
Now that you're here.
YOU ARE READING
The Ink Spilling From My Pen ✔
Poetry* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * The ink that spilled out of my pen formed these poetry. * ** * * * * * * * * * * ** ** * * ** * * ** * ** ** *** ** * * ** * * ** A random poetry collection that spill...
