.....

There were times when I forgot the lines in my head
The only thing that comforts me is the poetry on my bed
But writing them needs blood to be drawn
And a rare vulnerability needs to be shown
There were days I prefer to jot down lines
But emotional instability show signs
I opened myself up to the world
But my flaws and insecurities make me furled
Then days come when picking up pen is like picking a knife
I keep asking myself would anyone appreciate it in this life?
©naiya