Just one sentence could end a conversation Just one word could stab you like a knife Just one hand could pull you out of the dark Just one person could change your perspective And just one life could change the world
He doesn't burn photographs He doesn't join therapy sessions He doesn't smoke too many cigarettes Nor he drown himself into alcohol He scratches his wounds daily And never let them heal He doesn't try to get rid of the pain Instead he let it grow on him He waters the seed of sorrow with his tears He feeds it with the manure of old memories He takes it to sleep with him And nurtures it in himself Till the moment when every single drop of his blood gets replaced by this pain Until his fragile heart can bear no more And his soul starts overflowing with emotions That's when he dip his pen into this pain And empty his heart on a piece of paper He bares his soul for us to feel He creates poetry that the world would cherish for centuries to come
He walks by and I give him an small smile we sit side by side I stare at him and when he looks over I quickly turn around Like nothing happened He steals my books and I through his on the ground And we laugh till one of us falls into the floor With his red hair and sweet smile I wish I could stay for awhile
I always knew I could weave magic with a pen, but I never realized that the magic could pull tears from dry eyes, or pain from numb hearts, or warmth from cold souls, or inspiration from empty minds.