Maybe writing poems is not a bad idea after all. I need to know as to how have I done in this part of literature. Also, I’ll be writing more (I GUESS AND ALSO HOPE), so yes, do keep in touch.
Here’s presenting to you the scenario where in you move on from a bad thing, a thing that you think you never deserved.
Her bedroom walls were neatly blacked
just like her own self
She knew the day would come
when she’d no longer be herself.
She lay on her comfy bed
surrounded by pieces of happy and sad
Knowing that the time had come
to throw it all, and start over again.
The dark coffee stained the old books
The jeans parted in two between the cries
And now the second had struck
to scatter the little notes and the little ties.
The call logs, the texts;
the sketches were now a mess
Comprehending this hour of midnight
was something, that she couldn’t stress.
As she sat on the creaky,old arm chair
slowly swinging back and forth,
She knew that this was something
she’d do the next month
As she gazed,
out of her window.