Book of Poems

Inner Quake

Tears stream down my face,

like they're in a tear drop race.

Thoughts fly through my head.

If words were bullets, I'd be dead.

I refuse to show pain,

I know not of what I'd gain.

My only enemy is myself,

and the unrealistic books lining my shelf.

Knowing this, my tears dry;

as I look at the brightened sky.

Nature's beauty shakes me awake.

I've finally settled my inner quake. 

A/N: Long time Unique Peeps! Sorry about that. So, how was it? Any tips? Do constructively criticise if you wish!

-Ez