The night is growing dark,
My heart is hurting a lot,
Is it the guilt to never start?
Or am I just blaming it all on the heart?
For I can feel myself running,
Away from all these mountains,
I am not worthy of any story,
That might get written about the heros.
I tend to hide in the dark,
Scared of the ghosts I make,
And imagine about them silently,
As my companions in this dark alley.
My picture was not that clear of a view,
It was rather a hazy attempt to lose,
Just something to cling onto,
Until I find enough strength to give up.
Maybe the burning soul they talk about,
Is nothing but a misunderstanding,
I try to fit I but I am just a sorry
Excuse of an extingused desires.
I did build an extravagant mansion,
Of all these false memories in me,
That I go back to seek again,
Hide inside when its the war's beginning.
Am I weak? I guess I am.
Am I hurt? I guess I am.
Am I finding reason? I guess I do.
Anything just to save myself from you.
YOU ARE READING
Our Violet Walls
PoetryBook #1 in the 'Coloured After Party' Poetry Series. 'Coloured After Party' is my second poetry series after my debut one known as 'If Only Happiness...' When everyone leaves, the night gets lonely with every passing minute. Keeping us in dilemma of...
