Unearth
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When you keep your foot on the ground, the ground feels some pressure. The gravity acting upon the ground gives you infinite amounts of energy, words and feelings. Then you look and get your head around the place trying to disentangle yourself out of the purplish side of your world to get into the bright yellow phase. You're flabbergasted enough that you're bound not to vent your feelings. This is when poetry speaks. The reverse happens; when your words sound louder than your actions.
Also, one is not cramped to always give a damn about his unrequited love. Try to be the only one who isn't worth to the world but to itself.
For dreamers, lovers and wanderers.
#201 in Poetry till now. Hope it goes well :)
Seluruh Hak Cipta Dilindungi Undang-Undang
#734
fine
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Madness
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For every person out there that was quiet, not because they chose to be so, but because they were choking in the smoke. Because their opinions were apparently not worth anything. Because they didn't know just how to say what they felt. For every person that is consumed by their own thoughts, the derision from the outside world only making it worse. For every soul that was drowning in remorse and anguish on restless nights. For every soul that says I love you in the dark and in the mirror because no one else does. For the floors we would pace while anxiety sunk its teeth into us. For the mirrors that we would break while shame echoed its laugh in our caged walls. For the hearts that would ache while loneliness was the only company. For every moment of pain and solitude in this world that feels too cruel for such young and frail minds.
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