Jul 2021
What left of me
Is my scattered words
Here and there
They don't mix and match anymore
They're just a floating words
No flows, no directions
I lost you.
I lost them.
What left of me
Is my scarred heart
To write is to force to accept.
But finding my words back
Is not accepting I lost you
I thought it would ****
But only when I write
I will never lost you.
Is my scattered words
Here and there
They don't mix and match anymore
They're just a floating words
No flows, no directions
I lost you.
I lost them.
What left of me
Is my scarred heart
To write is to force to accept.
But finding my words back
Is not accepting I lost you
I thought it would ****
But only when I write
I will never lost you.
I lost my Dad last year and I thought I will never write again because writing my pain was truly a torture. But I realize that only when I write can I never lost him forever.
