Ink spilled out on the page. Letting out bits of rage. You fill - TopicsExpress

Ink spilled out on the page. Letting out bits of rage. You fill the paper every-time. Trying hard to make words rhyme. You feel the urge to scream & shout Instead you write and let it out. A sorrow poem, words of pain. Nothing to loose. Nothing to gain. But a book of thoughts and memories. A side of you that no one sees. You write your pain, never show it. This make you an amazing poet. ~kalee

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