He's the pen that writes all the stories
Swiftly scribbling all the letters of worries
Tainting the paper with his beautiful writings
With any color of ink that sends different feelings
The paper that let herself be tainted
Just so the pen would feel her smoothness
Slowly comprising a wonderful story
That only the paper would know exactly
The pen who writes his mystery
On the paper that bewildered by his sorry
Neither the paper knows the story will soon to end
For the pen is tired of what will happen
The paper whose now torn in pieces
Still hold on to the pens' promises
She who believed in happy endings
Gets ripped by the pens plot twists
The story that the pen wrote is now a dead end
The paper feels so broken and jaded
She was once a clean sheet of paper full of wishes
Now there she lies, crumpled and in pieces
YOU ARE READING
Unsaid Words
PoetryI shut it up and wrote it down These words that are hard to pronounce I count to three and keep it in me Until the words cut me badly I closed it up and threw it away The words I want to let out but couldn't say So I keep quiet and remained silent B...
