Your life is a poem,
You are the poet.

Your body is the canvas,
Your hands are the brushes.

Your mouth is music,
Your words are a song.

Your eyes are the prologue
Deep from your soul.

There are always some questions that you wish no one would ever ask you,
because you feel
guilt or shame
or just something else altogether that you can’t explain.

That realisation of hidden pain,
Nosy prying tongues with nothing to gain.
What, where, when, why, who?
I heard...Is it true?

You crave privacy,
For people to mind their own,
But it doesn't matter
Mouths will always chatter.

The awkward silence
When that moment froze
And those actions paused
Tension lingered in the air

Eyes met,
And consequences set,

You knew
It shall forever be ingrained,
This memory would be sustained.