deepundergroundpoetry.com
She said, "Write."
She said, "write."
A persistent dreamer,
sated in his angsty tunes.
Only if he knew life was such a schemer.
Drained in black light,
his pen, lost the fight.
Now he lives in antithesis.
The very pen that was his saviour,
reminded him, of his dreams being a failure.
Tired of the make-believe,
searching ways to find relieve.
One fine day, on yet another cleave,
I met a girl with strong beliefs.
She said, how could you lock the hole?
The one that connects to your very soul.
Her words rang true and bold,
so I grabbed a pen and poured my heart,
in the name of very girl who gave me a new start.
A persistent dreamer,
sated in his angsty tunes.
Only if he knew life was such a schemer.
Drained in black light,
his pen, lost the fight.
Now he lives in antithesis.
The very pen that was his saviour,
reminded him, of his dreams being a failure.
Tired of the make-believe,
searching ways to find relieve.
One fine day, on yet another cleave,
I met a girl with strong beliefs.
She said, how could you lock the hole?
The one that connects to your very soul.
Her words rang true and bold,
so I grabbed a pen and poured my heart,
in the name of very girl who gave me a new start.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 3
reading list entries 1
comments 2
reads 755
Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.