The Fall

I love writings songs, and poetry is kind of the same thing in the long run.

Through many memories of happiness and depression by the time it's done,

People think "that's a nice poem", but don't realize that it means something more.

There's a hint of truth and tears behind each of these poems, hidden like behind a door.

Should I continue writing these poems, even when they're not that great?

I don't know what to do, since as of right now, I have no idea of my career's fate.

Will I become an author, journalist, writer at all?

Or will I one day just come to fall,

Wondering where I had gone wrong.

And if the force was too strong,

Or maybe I could have fixed my misery,

And come to a better life for me.