your poem.

your poem.

holding onto the thought of us feels like

talking to a rock, and wondering why it won’t answer back,

trying a hundred keys and still failing to open up the lock

it’s like a flood in the middle of a desert,

or like a hundred feelings one can’t assert

it can be punching a wall, hoping it won’t cause you pain

or wishing that you will not get your feet wet in a pouring rain

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you were a mistake

you were a mistake

but you were the mistake that made me better.

you were the mistake that opened my eyes to the real world,

you were the mistake that showed me things that i’ve never seen before,

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life is a game

life is a game

and we are left with no other choice rather than to play it. like any game out there, it has three stages:

the easy round, the one where everything seems to be in tune. working towards your goal was never a problem because you always seem to win. you set records, and you try to beat your old ones. this was when you were at your happiest, and life was at your side.

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