White paper and empty pages
trying to pour all through ages
dried ink stains thrown at a distance
swirling thoughts gives me a headache
pen touches just the surface
do the words weigh this much?
Been trying to say it all
things that welled up so far
suffocating breathes under its weight
its sharp fragments piercing veins
pulse rises and often slump
heart quivering and often numb
envy hearts which are in rythym
their calm pulses as nothing happened
Guilt fills my day and night
still trying to figure out
who was I in all those moments
can’t face you in conversations
now going through the last pages
painted all with the ink of boldness
kept under pillow for your conclusions.
