May 2017
My pen weeps;
It weeps everyday,
upon the rugged pages of my diary.
A rainbow of tears.
The blue ink sets free
Dark shadows
Looming in my soul.
Deep;
Amidst the hollow wasteland of my thoughts.
They take me
To the nooks and crevices
Of my past.
A yesterday,
So beautiful, So far away,
Yet
unreal.
The red ink,
It paints;
Swollen memories,
That refuse to
Let go of my grasp.
Buried deep within
Yet
alive.
And Indigo;
That sketches,
The abysmal dreams.
That scar my mind,
When the world Is snoring,
In it's beauty sleep.
As i slowly slip,
Into a wilderness.
A madness,
Exhausting
Yet
Infinite.
My words;
Rain upon the blank pages,
With a ink
so melancholic,
It seems like the tears,
Would never dry off.
Yet
they do.
Just like the colours
In my life.
Slipping away,
into pages.
How the cage
of my body,
Confines a heart;
Suffocated
Starved
That sings like a canary,
Woeful ballads Of freedom.
That begs to stretch,
It's wings.
And taste the dew
Of morning,
Lying upon the half awake
Bud.
A charming
melody,
it weeps everyday.*
Just like my p e n.
It weeps everyday,
upon the rugged pages of my diary.
A rainbow of tears.
The blue ink sets free
Dark shadows
Looming in my soul.
Deep;
Amidst the hollow wasteland of my thoughts.
They take me
To the nooks and crevices
Of my past.
A yesterday,
So beautiful, So far away,
Yet
unreal.
The red ink,
It paints;
Swollen memories,
That refuse to
Let go of my grasp.
Buried deep within
Yet
alive.
And Indigo;
That sketches,
The abysmal dreams.
That scar my mind,
When the world Is snoring,
In it's beauty sleep.
As i slowly slip,
Into a wilderness.
A madness,
Exhausting
Yet
Infinite.
My words;
Rain upon the blank pages,
With a ink
so melancholic,
It seems like the tears,
Would never dry off.
Yet
they do.
Just like the colours
In my life.
Slipping away,
into pages.
How the cage
of my body,
Confines a heart;
Suffocated
Starved
That sings like a canary,
Woeful ballads Of freedom.
That begs to stretch,
It's wings.
And taste the dew
Of morning,
Lying upon the half awake
Bud.
A charming
melody,
it weeps everyday.*
Just like my p e n.
My diary knows my sorrows the best.
