The greatest fall was when she couldn’t find the words to start a poem. it’s when the words in which she find solace failed her too. It’s when the dreams she had suddenly became blurred pictures. It’s when hope vanished from her heart. She fell a thousand times, and twice she killed herself. Yet no one noticed how dead she is, and how shattered her heart was. So in silence, she tried to heal herself, In silence she cried her loudest fears, In silence she weep her scars and burns until she can no longer feel the ache. But the greatest fall was when she couldn’t find the words to start a poem. It’s when she lost the only voice she had.
I am a walking cliché. A girl with rectangular glasses in loose shirt and ancient jeans. Short, sluggish, and quiet. Everything about me speaks awkwardness - my gaze, my voice, my presence. all usual and so typical. I'm broke and sentimental and sort of sunken in an unknown place. Please don't read my words, please understand them. At least try. And now you are warned, this is emotional, my words reflect agony but they are at least, true.