i have nothing to write
but i still type some lines
into a document
i'll forget over time

I may shed a little tear today
As words of some seem to ****
A reminder may play everyday
Putting me on a disgusting pill

I'm out spoken on verbal and written
Yet, I am misjudged by most
Words seem to be stuffed and bitten
And comments fly in of another boast

I am not a qualified writer
Nor my writes are clear to perfect
But writing makes my dark world brighter
And that, my friend is a fact

My writes are ruins of my thoughts
Feelings of a broken heart
Shattered pieces of multiple knots
And a spilling imaginary art

I am not in competition with anyone
Poetry world is a lovely place to be
I am not in search to nail someone
But to read other poets work as I see...


©sim

Holding ballpen, inks to paper
are comfortable to my hand
writing thoughts that I combine together
that controlled of my optimistic mind.

My feelings more on sorrow
are the topic that I want to write
everyday, later or tomorrow
it will be released by my broken heart.

Your flaws and non-sensibility,
are the reason why I'm gaunt
not physically but emotionally—
I write because of my tired soul.

The voices of my mind, heart and soul
were ignored by the pretending deaf
the reason why I just write at all
and unexpectedly poetry was bleed.

So here i write
Wishing to die
Because love is foregin to me
Because you cause me to not breathe
Because for once everything is alright.
Except my mind
I can't win every battle and lately I've been hurting
A wounded vet
And i have given up on the medic
I can see and feel the love
But its just that way for a moment so i don't wnt to put all my hopes in
There's no return price on this bet
I know all love is temporary
But so is my existence