by M. A
when I’m angry, I go to my room and bump my head
Tears fall down
It melts bead by bead, and I know it’s never sadness running along
it’s the urge to torture my body
wetly drifted on my cheeks
If someone asks me what’s wrong,
I lift up my face and smile.
They’re fooled by me.
Because I think, I don’t want somebody to see what’s inside me.
Bumping head, I did it since a lil
I’m never afraid what it’s caused to my brain
Cos I once checked it, there is ‘indeed’ a crack inside my sculp
Truly I’m lost
Emotion’s playing around inside me, making thinnest slices across the heart
I’ll smile though, as much as I can
By this time, I’m running out of direction,
so please, somebody show me your intriguing plots
I’ll somehow buy ’em if I’m fitted in enough