A mighty smirk clothed a mousy lurk He's got skills that goes for days He likes to witness your slow decay
A majestic road that likes to be a runner He likes to spin webs in a sickly thump-er Last woken memory is a head bouncing *****
Could sit here pass a pen point those fingers But there's room for everyone to win the blame game with nasty little fibbers To each their own Grave of three waiting to be called home
A deep fear within her heart To be denied by all She hides in the dark, to stay unnotice Wishing to be loved But never knew how to love herself Hoping to be loved She lies in others shadow
She tries creating an image of herself By standing behind others photos Tries to mark her name On other's page. She calls her self worthless What an irony,cuz she was worth more Facing the left side of life She never turned to the right side. As the wind blows It whispered to her "Before hoping to be loved Learn to love yourself first"
I felt as to cry I felt as to scream I felt happy,joyful I felt as to express myself To bring out my point of views But nobody understood me And no one was listening In Poetry I found a means to express myself And let my heart speak for itself. A means to release my pains and my joy. A piece of paper and a pen was enough To put in my feelings And release the burden from my heart