~Poetry~ Her voice is shaky, "Why are all your poems so sad?" Asking as if not to mean anything But the question ignited in my brain, Burned mercilessly and kept me awake One of many thoughts to make me realize, She knew absolutely nothing about me. Is it really something I have to confess? It's so clear U must to be blind to miss. But I can't blame her, She isn't wrong Being sheltered from creativity I expected nothing far. The truth is, I started writing for her Not for the girl in the mirror. I wrote pretty words, Only for it to not matter. But that isn't art It's only worthy of Shakespeare's scoff. So I learnt to bleed into the words Let my pain leak out my eyes, roll down my cheek, Before turning into words and rhythm I, and many like to call, poetry. --- Should I share more?
My friend for saying "Why r all ur poems so sad?" as a joke
