I hate the things that i am grateful with,
Fot it only masks the pain inside me,
I hate to see the flower blooms beside the sea,
or hear the sound of the waves when they collide the stones,
I hate to see the sunrise,
Nor the sunset,
Even the moonlight just flares straight from the moon,
And the wind blows from the woods,
The dancing trees after the beat of the rain drops,
Never bring some cheer in my life,
For it only says that i should suffer,
after soaring from the clouds,
And fall from the ground,
The rainbow doesn't make me happy,
nor tasting the cookies isn't yummy,
even planting flowers makes things cringey,
and ñiving in this world never inspire me,
I hate the things that I am grateful with,
For it makes my day shines, so neat,
I hate my friends for comforting me,
But being attached to them was never an easy task to make,
Being committed is like being imprisoned,
For i hate being left in the air or being abandoned,
charcoals been pressured turns into diamond,
so I was tortured to produce a coal,
Things was unreasonable,
this place was traced a pen,
i write the words to express what I am thinking right now,
And blinking isn't a good stuff to do.
22:45 p.m. (03/17/20)
YOU ARE READING
Pen - pen: Disarm my Pain
PoezjaA poetry of insanity •I know you're reading this for fun, but it isn't Fun at all• Highest Rank: #1 in poetry - September 2021 #2 in poetry - January 2020
