Didn't know what I gave you,
Till you gave it to me.
A taste of my own medicine,
A sting of a bee.
The things I wanted made me forget,
The things that I already had,
Turned my smile upside-down,
Changed my mood-meter from happy to sad.
Turned my entire world,
The other way around.
Pushed me into the darkness,
Not a whisper, not a sound.
Writing these poems on pieces of paper,
Are my only trace of sanity,
Or I'd gone completely crazy by now,
For you don't even talk to me.
~!~ Diana
YOU ARE READING
A Poem Is Worth A Story
PoetryDo you think something's not real, A legend , a superstition. Did you ever want an answer, A reason, an explanation. Stories could be fake, People could too, But it's not in our hands, To define who's who. Like how a picture is worth a thousand word...
