poet

30 1 0
                                        

I'm not a poet
but I try.
I write what I feel
So I wouldn't cry.

What's on my palm,
I wouldn't show.
I kept everything in
And keep it close.

My thoughts that plague
At a dawn was red.
Now, it escapes the castle
Like a wolf was rogue.

This is just thoughts
In fancy patterns.
But nonetheless,
Sad words.

how fucking sad ||proses&poems||Where stories live. Discover now