Inside my blue bedroom, inside my head,
I've written words contemplating myself.
The ink spilled, all I can see is red,
Can you teach me how to scream for help?
Once again, here I am, writing different feelings,
It was just.. I'm left hanging.
One last time, here I am, writing poems,
Hoping to reach hearts, different gems.
YOU ARE READING
Nightingale (A Poetry Collection)
Poetry:a small brown European bird that sings a beautiful song especially at night. Just some random poems I had in mind... I usually thought of this around nighttime hence the title XD Btw, all of this doesn't make sense ┐(￣ヘ￣)┌ This book is dark, please...
