The piano sounds so much more sombre
When I write my feelings on paper
I only noticed it few months ago
When I actually started doing so
I wanted to be heard
I was in pain, an injured bird
I wanted to be heard
But never was
Then, I started writing
And I was happy
From the mere realization that I exist
That my happiness, sadness and everything betwixt,
Mattered, and could be heard
And so I wrote,
And imagined, and thought,
Got lost in past, and creating stories
learned about myself,
and others and lovers
It helped me to be heard
The love, the madness, the pain, the anger
I put in every word
And so I was heard
Maybe in the future I will return,
come back again
And continue the journey, started by the younger me
lost in thoughts sitting in a train
This was the last poem I wrote in my artistic outburst I had 3-4 months ago when I started poetry for first time. I wrote 60 or so poems continuously.
But then I took a break for a while, this was last poem before that break