Torn apart and filled with lines,
Words unspoken are hatefully tried.
Burned at the bud,
Stop at the start.
Grievously misled from the beginning,
Broken and killed from the mere heeding.
Paper strewn across the floor,
The only love they've ever boor.
Here sit's a man in anger,
Lost is he in pain.
He tried to hide in the beginning,
Now all he is, is insane.
He wrote these hateful lines,
And just as they, he lies.
Never right, never perfect,
Always lost, forever hidden.
Never will the words fit.
This is an amazing poem, and its not your only. Don't lost hope!
I know, this was about a person who has writers block and is a bit depressed.
Your write amazingly!!!!! Don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise!!!
You write more than one good poem. All your poems are good, raw, and real.
Thank you, it means a lot to me that you think that.
You are welcome. I will always be supportive of You as a friend and as a writer.