pain-
is about losing my pen.
I have been reduced to a mere toddler, only able to fill in colouring book with colours. Unable to write, only edit. Unable to compose a drawing, only fill in colours within set lines.
-rocks and rocks in pain-
anguish, is hurting, and unable to find warmth. unable to vent. the feelings gawn within me, sucking my marrow dry.
Will you write for me? Pen down my expression and feelings. Write a story for me, about how a girl got infatuated with a guy, and found her pride in him.
Write a story, about how the guy constantly let her down, but she didn't mind.
Write a story, about how that guy is no more, but she still yearns, and hurt. And continue sacrifice for him.
With all senselessness.
The Lighter Side of Her
Blog
A grey dress with sweet dainty puckered sleeves and a special nook clothes and surrounds dreamy fancies and flights of imagination. Memories from here and there creep in, forming the pen in her head.
When time slows down, she writes.
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