Spilled Ink

Spilled Ink

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WpMetadataReadOngoing<5 mins
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Fri, Jul 31, 2020
My ink just spilled. So I gathered any type of papers and start filling it my poems, for they speak for me. My poems speak for my shattered heart. For my crying eyes. Lastly for my voiceless mouth.
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#55
reasonstolive
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I lose myself in my words and I lose myself. You'll find pieces of my thoughts here, like shattered crystal. Poems are stories from the heart I suppose but these are hardly poems. They are more things I never said.

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