Prithee, tell me
do your words express joy,
Or are just a lid
to the repressed sad within?
If so,
then where do you hide your demons?
Where does in your gentle, sweet mind
such horror lives?
Do you wish
that with each drop of ink that falls from your pen,
that with each word written that has its own tale,
your darkness drips away.
Tell me, tell me
that you dream, that you hope
that the Odyssey ends
and you come home
to peace.
Just tell me
You wont lost hope
Dont lose hope. Dont die from inside. They are some things worth living for. Hoping for.
