The Poet
The red screen lingered in the corner of the window.
With my neutral face, I stare blankly at the white page.
Drizzling sky outside, drizzling thoughts within me—
Sometimes my pain turns into ink.
I weave words with some rhymes.
I craft my thoughts into quotes.
I hide my pain inside a poem's verse.
I do this to...
With my neutral face, I stare blankly at the white page.
Drizzling sky outside, drizzling thoughts within me—
Sometimes my pain turns into ink.
I weave words with some rhymes.
I craft my thoughts into quotes.
I hide my pain inside a poem's verse.
I do this to...