• acrystalgirl 10w

    Moving my fingertips
    on the edges of
    my old diary,
    I sat on the chair of my porch.

    Looking up to the dark sky,
    I thought, is there
    anyone up there
    who's looking at me?

    Those untold stories
    of all bright stars,
    is there any particular star
    who's shining only for me?

    I looked at the empty pages
    of my rest of a diary
    I wanted to write something
    but my heart was empty.

    Someone laughed
    in my head,
    I heard the sound
    of my darkness,
    and I thought,

    who am I to think
    about shining stars,
    I'm a shallow and
    dark person.

    Silence comes with
    the flashes of yellowish
    and red memories to
    narrate the story of my heart.

    And I'm that bright
    sin of people's tale
    who walk in the
    world of ataraxia.

    It's easy to tell the
    tales of sins of a person
    than recognising
    the actual sinner.

    This blue cold night
    has written about
    salvation of my soul in
    the dark of my demon.

    So now I learned to
    turn away from the
    open windows of love and hate
    to lie between empty words.

    I wanted to write
    something or at least
    a sentence but
    I ended up with a full stop.

    Moment later

    I just breathe.


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