I kept too much words unsaid,
That i don't know what to say anymore.
I kept a lot of blank pages, unwritten,
For too long until it felt as the toughest core.
I used to write what i lived and how i felt,
The emotions that my mouth couldn't say but my hand writes,
But now that there is a void in my heart,
Is this how a person slowly falls apart?
I'm not sad but emotionless,
Maybe if i put it into verses , it will hurt less,
But how can "it" hurt less, if i feel nothing anymore?
That i'm not happy,sad or unsure?
Maybe i will write about not feeling anymore,
or about every single feeling floating with time,
About how life is not sweet but sour,
About not having any thoughts during shower.
As a blank page with no letters in it,
As a sinner killed for his sins,
Writing equals breathing,
And i was suffocated since.
