piercing pain into the eyes
and wobbling into different skies
lonely walls that you can magnify
make you wonder if you'd make it out alive
february, march and til mid of april
seventy two days and all i did was stumble
cut, cut, cry and mumble
if the world could be a little more humble
but it wasn't, and i remained alone
ears bleeding every morning to my mother's words
who did not understand, oh, she'll never understand
what she put me through
though all i needed was a hand in dark
i can't help feeling like a miserable lark
and i just hobbled around haunted
hoping they'd understand what i wanted
i'm a poet, i bleed words of melancholy
spirit untamed by the hands of the holy
moving my ink pen with blistered hands slowly
i've never written a poem, hearted wholly.
YOU ARE READING
my songs and poems :)
Poetrynobody asked, but here are some of the songs i wrote. and yeah, they all rhyme. lol.
