The moment you sit down to write,
I wonder what strings of words you tie,
Within those pages,
Spilled with ink all over, unabridged.

Do you write all the hurt and traumas,
Of that little child's heart, Or Massacre ,
Of all innocence and kindness in your blood,
Or when you fell and the reality hit you, "Thud"

Do you write about your old sweetheart,
Her sparkling eyes and warmth,
Hold on your hand tight but calm,
Or how your eyes still moisten with love when she's in sight,
Heart beating faster everytime.

Do you write how the knife went right through your heart,
When people around , prickled you like dirt,
and you ended up with yourself,
Cornered and Discarded,
Every-single-time.

Do you write about the times when you felt it was the end,
Drowing in the failures and
Emotions inside you all spent,
Every second, a numbing pain,
Hitting you up, making you lose all the sense.

Do you write the mess we are in,
Fitting in each other's pieces,
On the narrow steep holding worn out hopes,
Slipping on the edges,
Away yet close.

It's Scattered,
You are scared.
I know you try to hold your shattered heart, with proses and words,
Winding them in most shiniest rhymes,
You do smirk at the nonsense of "there's a beauty in every mess",
Yet each day try to find the beautiful shadows in the hole inside you
© TheUncoveredThoughts