The Missing

My pen won’t meet the page

so I fill a book with tear drops

and hope they’ll be able to tell my story.

Why do memories of the good times fade

just when I need them most?

Why do the tears keep falling

when I so desperately need to stand up tall?

I’m crippled with fear and regret

and the only crutches I’ve got to lean on

are delusions of myself.

Reviews

[Antoñyo]

Interesting, more so when you give it more wonder and fill in some blanks...
One that makes you think...even of yourself

Thanks for the share

[melissa]

simply beautiful :)