It was so hard for me to close those doors.
It's unbelievable how is possible those dark objects to keep me hidden from the real world.
Every time that I closed them with my own hands
Broke my soul,
No one could help me
I was all alone.
I looked to the sky
Trying to find a way,
I couldn't dare to run
And I couldn't stay there.
For me it was a prison,
But others called it home,
Others describe it as warm,
But mine is was really cold.
YOU ARE READING
Hopeless wanderer
PoetryThey asked me : do you write poetry or poems ? I write what I feel, I don't know if that's a poetry or a poem, a quote or just a text. I write what I feel and never regret for expressing my feelings and my pain. I should be less sensitive and emo...
