I was an open book
I shared an open letter
It was getting old anyway
What am I talking about
My feeling were real
the pain is real
I can hide behind my fury, my pride, everything I am
but I'd still be broken down inside
I can say none of this has phased me
look at this as learning
say nobody can break me down
but how much of that is true
when I know deep down inside
I don't have a clue
How everything just suddenly
turned into a raging storm
Everything was falling up
now everything's spiraling down
I'm an open book
but I feel like dying now
Everything I held onto
the one thing I kept
lost it in a game of charades
a childish bet in a game I've never won
And I'm trying to play it off
walking tall
hiding myself in the shade
smiling at my surroundings
while at home
I bury my face in my pillow
dream of a willow
sitting by the sea
attempting to possibly do the impossible
and try to do the act of forgetting
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem