Why do I take up this pen,
Stow myself away in my den,
And pour my heart out on paper,
No one will read?
Why does it matter to me,
If even the tiniest bee,
Could see what this wilting flower,
Can offer,
Can say?
So what if I,
Am always told by,
Society that
None of this will matter?
At the end of the day,
Till the very last ray,
If only I
Could somehow comfort a stranger
Through my words
No one will tell.
YOU ARE READING
What Keeps me Up(NEW TITLE)
PoetryA collection of poetry Of all the things I couldn't say Out loud Of the things That haunt me And keep me up At night *NEW TITLE* previously titled "The Dark Corners of my Mind" cover made using Desygner
