It's pretty easy to imagine poems and ideas to write
But my pen won't work and my fingers refuse to type
They aren't tired
They want ideas unique with each new word flowing from above
They wish to cry with the characters And dance along the melody they created
But it's hard sometimes you don't feel like typing
Your hand would go numb and stop ideas From flowing in your head
But never stopped
They came but you refused to collect them
Like people you threw them away
Like trash
As if they didn't meant anything to you
But then came curling back
Searching for them because you knew they were the best
YOU ARE READING
Dead Souls She Ones Loved
诗歌The sky tuned red. The sun sinking deeper into the core of the ocean. The black curling in while the yellow disappeared behind the massive blue. She felt numb, feeling herself deep under water. The dying sun's final rays falling on her reached out h...
