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I throw away my pen I shall not write anymore
for I cannot write true I can't write as things are
I try and try to write but I shall not go far
I try to write of her the one who I adore
but hen I think and stop what would I do this for
and so mired I am stuck so bad in the tar
for I know who I am and I am not on par
I cannot do this now and so my heart is sore
My words she shall not read is there reason to write
my tears stain now the page if I write its profane
for of her I still think and of what is not so
so my tears blot my ink my goal is not in site
I sit and weakly sob but composure I feign
One day I shall find it and love that I may know
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It has a shadowy atmosphere that just swallows you whole. I especially like the first stanza, both for the rhythm and the choice of words. I'm not so familiar with the rhyme scheme in the seconds stanza, so I had to read it a couple of times, but it works well.
I liked this one, I often find myself thinking this along the same lines as this piece implies. But even though I know the person who is meant to be the receiver of the poem might not care about them no more, that does not stop me from writing away. Good work
Dont ever stop writing. Its a crime. You write so well!
Also, im glad you think im deep. Cuz im not. And dont hate yourself for it. All pride is not bad.
