Fed up with the sorrow I have been trying to avoid during my gloomy days.
Down there, where I push harder to get it all out and moan it away.
All of my negative energy gets piled up after what I though was love.
Its a lie indeed to myself.
I know that night I will get back home to stare at my blank walls.
To review my life for things I have messed out and messed up
And because of this deep blues i will carry on as I am thinking to end it all.
This is my 1st poem, I hope its well done.
She moaned the most painful moan
Drowned by the sound of laughter,
Veiled by always looking happy
And nobody heard it.
What is the point of a fist? Is it for fighting? Why? Can't you use your words to work it out instead? Is it to crush things in your hand? Why? Can't you let the item stay whole? Is it because YOU don't feel whole? Is it because you think breaking other things, or even OTHER people, will make YOU feel whole? How? Wouldn't that just make it worse? Please, open your hands, & notice how much better that is. Please, open your eyes & look @ the things you've been missing out on. Please, open your heart & let God in so he can peace back together your soul. Because with God, ANYTHING is possible.