When love gradually turns to hatred, do new demons form?
When pain and anguish engulf the once loving and soft heart and hardness forms;
Won't it be harder than a rock heart?
Writing is magic; it performs wonders
Its my best way of expressing the within
Would my outpour through this writing bring lightness?
Then I will write and smile.
I cry, I cry out in words, written down by my pen and paper
That is how I shed my own tears.
Those tears are wiped out, when one reads and understands.
If a bird should tell the truth; then it would sing its song
If the sky should do likewise; then it will be bright and clear
If I should then tell the truth, then my poems are my mouth
They don't speak out in audio, but they speak loud
They speak through my pen and paper; Then to anyone that pays attention
My poem speaks.