The strange attraction

Dear Me,

Where to begin to tell you?

Let’s just say I love you;

Wonder where it came from?

The awakening of the conscious;

Desperate was I to be loved and cared,

Forgot how beautiful you are;

I walked through the road of thorns,

While I already had the rose;

Trying to tell the stories unheard,

I lost the song I loved;

The world is full of thrill and mystery,

But I was lost in entrenching misery;

Somewhere I hid myself to the fear of judgements,

Hiding nonetheless to what ends;

 Enough of the treasure that’s bygone,

Lemme embrace you like a funky neon;

Be the badass you were, again,

Don’t let yourself to contain;

The world is just pulp fiction,

In which you are the strange attraction.

Published by penfluky

Writing is not a skill acquired through practice. Not for us, at least. Writing is a phenomenon that occurred to us when we wanted to shout our thoughts out. It happened when our brains formed a labyrinth of thoughts with no way out. The only way was to break the walls, the walls we constructed in our minds—the walls which stopped us from letting ourselves out. We broke the barriers using the mightiest weapon, the pen. Writing was our way out of that maze. Words and sentences flowed like a stream of some river, which consisted of A2Z instead of H2O. Soon the river filled the brain and the labyrinth was not visible anymore.

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