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Jun 2018
The hand that written have
become frozen.
Words have become
meaningless.
The paper is just an empty
blank space.
The love story is never
the same.

How can I say I love you,
when a poet died
and words are no more a word for love?
But instead, words have become a hurtful way
to **** somebody soul,
Like the poet.
This poem was just a one-minute poem I wrote a few days ago and I don't even know if it makes sense lol.
Irene J
Written by
Irene J  18/F/in my wildest mind
(18/F/in my wildest mind)   
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