She picked up the pen,
And with the
Most beautiful threads,
Weaved words,
Never known to this world.
Pain,
Never felt by no one else.
She picked up the pen,
And wrote the most beautiful
Poem, anyone had ever written.
And ended it,
With another golden word.
The words, they
Were mere beauty.
And do you know what made
Them even more beautiful?
The truth behind them.
For she,
Was writing her story.
And today,
When you'll read it,
Promise me,
You won't just read the words
And sit in awe.
Promise me,
You will look into the eyes
Of the pain behind them.
And understand
What she went through.
Promise me,
You won't cry over the words,
But over the suffering
Of the girl,
Who weaved them,
Even though her hands
Were broken.
Just like her soul.
YOU ARE READING
unsaid
Poetry'I wanted to speak oceans, but only told you a drop.' #itsnotaphase {Started on Jan 10, 2017} {Ended on April 1, 2018} #1 in poetry (when the ranks used to actually matter) for 365 days (and more).
