• anne_verse 22w

    I don't know where to start
    And when to end
    Ive always desire to write the unknown
    Ive been fascinated with mysteries
    Ive been trying to draw adventures
    And whenever I found them
    I found myself dumfounded
    To its beauty
    Fragility
    And the sincerity of it
    Whenever at that moment
    I try to write them down
    My tongue seems
    To withdraw
    And my brain would shutter
    For a moment
    I would speak but only to stutter
    I always feel sorry
    For lacking The capability
    To paint them in words
    Nor express the emotions behind it
    I've tried,
    Yes I did,
    I just can't seem to pen them down
    Perfectly as I wanted to
    They just really lack,
    I have always console myself
    With the thought that,
    Maybe this is the beauty of literature,
    Poems or prose.
    You draw everything in words
    But not the exact tone or texture of it.
    Maybe or just maybe
    That it should be just like that,
    Leaving the words
    Untuned for the readers
    To put them,
    Letting them to
    Sing with it,
    with their own melody
    Maybe.

    Anne