What do you want to read ?
When my heart is heavy with sorrow
i pour my blood
and convert it into ink.
Then, you shower love on me.
You tell me my writing is like wine,
elegant,
beautiful.

Yet when i feel nothing
but happiness
and i pour my heart
onto your feet
you brush it away.
You don't connect to me
and now you don't shower love.
"Your writing is like wine,
elegant,
beautiful,
poisonous."

You don't accept happy
because you don't connect to it.
You flow like the rest
in an ocean filled with grief.
You use me like a mat
and i serve you
waiting for that one day
you clean your sins away.