Who, other than oneself,
can decide one's fate?
One's story only ends when one puts the one's pen down
And closes the book.
Therefore, do as such:
Don thine pen, young one
Let your hand create flowing paragraphs
Until your fingers wear out from exhaustion
Let them bleed over the fruits of you labor
Let the blood, sweat, and tears
be a symbol of your courage and dedication.
Show the world how much you've suffered
all for a dream
of greatness
for only then will you achieve it.
Only after you've wept and bled
through countless torturous, sleepless nights
Will you find a home in glory as a legend among legends.
YOU ARE READING
~|:|~Poems~|:|~
PoetryJust a few poems I put together throughout quarantine because I had nothing better to do with my life. Quick warning, some of these deal with dark themes and mental illnesses, such as suicide and self-harm. If you are sensitive to these sorts of top...
