Aug 2018
The feels of a poet are never easily explained,
A string of words,
Scratches of a pencil,
We pour our heart into the note book beneath our pillows.
Expressing our pain, sorrow and joy all in one place,
Our safe haven.
But if you ask how we are the answer never changes.
We are fine.
A string of words,
Scratches of a pencil,
We pour our heart into the note book beneath our pillows.
Expressing our pain, sorrow and joy all in one place,
Our safe haven.
But if you ask how we are the answer never changes.
We are fine.
I feel like my notebook under my mattress is my safe haven, and it holds so many emotions and feelings that I can't explain any other way.
