•Write•

Another person in my life,
Another mistake I've made myself.

When will I learn who to trust and push away?
It's inevitable I know.

My enemies are much better than being turned on by someone I know so well.

I take a pen and a piece of paper.

I write.

Sometimes even missing people can be good for a writer.

But am I really a writer?

Hurt me to the point where I vent out confusion,
To the point where anger becomes a calm deadly silence.
To the point where it becomes an inspiration for my work.
To the point where it's just going to be on a piece of paper,
A paper filled with words and sentences I cannot even comprehend.

What I feel inside, I write it down.

Because they said what cannot be explained must be poetry, right?

I can't explain what I feel.
I don't know what to think.

Sometimes the silence is deadly.

Your mind thinks what it wants to think.
So I clear it all up, I write it all down.

This isn't a thing I should be writing at 3:00 am but it is.

I'll write till I'm tired, till my mind is all cleared up.

Just keep writing.