I would drain the pain in my heart out into the fluid of the pen.
Cos I know in them alone I can find solace.
I could try to be strong and put my make-up on.
But I know my heart is as blank as a plain sheet.
I could remember those moment that life seems perfect.
Those thought that you can always have it all.
But now it more painful to accept that truly you can't have it all.
I would cry to make myself feel comfortable.
But the tears are my signs of weakness.
Then I would wish that I could be consoled by friends.
But when I look around I found out it just me and my darling thought.
And my best friends my pen and my book.
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