The paper and pen calls for me
And I should write,
Should pour out everything
That lingers on my heart and mind.
But I keep on making excuses
And trying to be look preoccupied,
While lying to myself
That it's not easy.
But the truth is,
That I'm afraid;
Afraid of the words that will be inked and reveled,
Afraid of the feelings
That will be exposed and showcased,
Afraid that it'll be too pathetic
And the writing will be too inadequate
And when someone will read
they'll know,
That I am nothing
But a pathetic, untalented
Teenager with dreams
That are yet to be dreamed.
YOU ARE READING
The Broken Soul
PoesíaIt's a collection of poems written by the 'Peace Finder' in pursuit of herself. It doesn't matter if you are a lost soul or already a well bloomed flower, you will find her work relatable and heartfelt. Her poem are not long and you can definetly s...
