old shitty poems I made :[
I stare at the blank page -
The blank page, the only thing that will listen to me.
All of the times I've hopelessly ran away and all of my lonliness, too.
The page will listen to it all, no matter what.
All of the bottled up sadness, all of the happiness as well.
Everything will be heard, and nobody can stop that
My hand shaking, I reach for the pencil.
~25th may, 2022
go back?
