The Poem Poem by Piolo Jan Lugo

I doubt I could have one,
I am no good at this.
My words aren't blue but tan,
When will you be a part of my piece?

I want to make poem out of my scars
My knowledge is fading away
Good thing I kept some in my jars
They weren't glass but they are clay.

My pen is not working
I badly want to start my poem
I can’t see a thing
As I write beneath the loam.

I bursted a deep sigh and close my eyes
For I feel something so massive.
My feelings were about to terrorize
So I crumpled my paper as I leave.

Two contrasting ideas they bound
I met my knowledge again
For what goes around comes back around
This cause my thoughts to be in omen.

Who says writing a poem is easy?
I ain't got clue why these happen.
Got one shot to part with lazy
Thoughts to ponder still broken.

'I don’t want you to go, '
My knowledge told me.
“But I need to leave, you know”
I whispered him down on my knee.

Across the darkening twisted chrome,
Paramount senses were trying.
I stop writing the poem,
Because I want to stop crying.