Isn't it sad? That my happiness is spilled into an ocean of emptiness?
Aren't I glad? For now even my happiness can sleep in the darkness?
Isn't it perfect? The way my smile could make you believe I'm fine?
Am I not worth it? Cause this mellifluous voice says otherwise?
Isn't it beautiful? To see the sun settle yet another day?
Isn't it colourful? How it can paint the sky that way?
Isn't it funny? How I want to flee?
Or is it hurting? For I know I'll never be free?
Could it be? That my heart can't speak?
Or is it true? That my mind Isn't allowing it to speak?
YOU ARE READING
Paperwords
PoetryWords spilled on paper that my lips were too scared of saying but my valiant fingers were brave enough to slay.
