Writing
The night I complained,
For being lost in the words.
They might've taken it wrongly,
Now I ain't a good child to God.
Sleepless nights are gone now,
Everywhere their last voice lingers
All pains are fixed somehow,
There are no more left tears.
I do love writing,
this makes me happy.
It doesn't let me hiding,
Things peep say creepy.
I do want that life back,
I beg to Him each night.
I don't want the life hack,
Please take back the light.
This poem is about:
Me