black
grey
blue
red
brown
white

There’s a constant battle of me and healing; all of which still sits burning and intricately perplexed in ink.

Odd Ken

Respect pain. Every heartfelt word is first born from sadness.
ODD KEN

Born Pain Respect Sadness
I can sing love; only I’m afraid the lyrics might get shattered again.
ODD KEN

Afraid Love Lyrics Myself Sing
To me there was only ever you!
ODD KEN

Love Myself One Liner Relationship Yourself
All through the depression, I was the soft toy in the hands of a baby with sharp teeth.
ODD KEN

Children Depression Hands Myself Soft
And when the cold comes, I swear I can feel her in my bones.
ODD KEN

Bone Cold Feeling Herself Myself Winter
The broken worlds we hide inside; that’s how we start to die!
ODD KEN

Break Death Hide Start World
If ever the fall is the ground, someone tell her I’m this close to soil, and I can feel it!
ODD KEN

Fall Feeling Ground Myself
I’m a drunk poet; and I guess maybe I sipped too much of what I couldn’t buy of her.
ODD KEN

Break Up Buy Drink Herself Myself Poet Relationship
There’s a constant battle of me and healing; all of which still sits burning and intricately perplexed in ink.
ODD KEN

Battle Burn Healing Ink
I’ve been to the countryside a couple of times. Somedays it is all wood and grass and empty. Other days it feels like you!
ODD KEN

Country Feeling Forest Place Time Yourself
Sometimes even in pain we smile to the world until we think we’re dying.
ODD KEN

Death Pain Smile Thinking World
I guess we all understand the love language fine; but maybe truth is we’re just too fluent in goodbyes.
ODD KEN

End Goodbye Language Love Myself Truth Understand
After healing I’ll run back to her – of course this poem demands a brutal ending!
ODD KEN

Brutal Demand End Healing Myself Poem Run
Often times the language is different; by which I mean, I love her, and it’s the only stammer I’ve ever known.
ODD KEN

Different Language Love Myself Time
This ‘missing you’ It begs for water; it cries your name.
ODD KEN

Beg Cry Missing Name Water Yourself
Please the night’s cold, not her name again!
ODD KEN

Cold Herself Name Night

There’s a constant battle of me and healing; all of which still sits burning and intricately perplexed in ink.

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There’s a constant battle of me and healing; all of which still sits burning and intricately perplexed in ink.

Related Topics

Popular Authors

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