She was a Poem
028 She was a poem with rhymes and rhythm, someone whose secrets are hidden. Her faithful friend was her pen, an object who witnessed her veiled shenanigan. She was a poem that only a few can understand. Someone private and hard to comprehend. The papers are her companion at night, forming her thoughts as her pen took flight. She was an unfinished poem hiding traumas behind the pages. Unraveled emotions and tears are hidden inside her cages. Millions of thoughts keep her awake at night, shadows
