"Since the last couple of days,
I've been writing randomly;
Filling the pages of my dairy,
That I'll never get to love;
I may not even read them again.
But I can't stop.
There is this desire inside to just write,
Go with the flow; I don't know.
I almost don't even care half so much;
I'm not even trying to make my words sound good.
I'm just painting fake emotions,
And writing about what never happened.
Only so I could pretend that I'm okay not
writing about what feels important.
Take this pen out of my hand;
Help me forget fake memories.
Make me stop writing,
What shouldn't ever be written."
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...
