HER BOOK OF POETRIES

THAT ONE PATH

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I was never interested in writing.
Like why would I waste time in such thing?
"Words and poetries are boring."
I was just good with reading.

But I woke up and realized "I can write poetries!"
It was one of a kind story.
A plot twist in a world filled with pride,
So I chose to write and hide.

The little things that happened became big,
As I wrote them in a piece of paper.
The big branches from the very huge tree but it's a twig,
In reality, this is just me writing a fantasy in a latter.

I was so excited everytime I write these stuffs,
That my cries became hidden laughs.
The odd and boring things became magical,
Even if reality is filled with artificial.

It was one big choice and a very good one,
That I wake up and make pieces with greetings of the sun.
From mess and trash and wraths,
To a magical and wonderful path.

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