HER BOOK OF POETRIES

THE MIND OF THE WANDERER

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When I chose to die,
You want me to live.
When I flew high,
You want me to grieve.

I don't understand the greed of humans,
Trickster and envious as those royal merchants.
I lost the reason to live like this,
But you want me here and I just can't miss.

Miss the days of when we were together,
Our laughter and jokes will last forever.
But why? Why are you torturing me inside?
I'm sorry if I'm like this, every emotions I hide.

My heart is made of stone,
But I'm real, flesh and bones.
I also cry, and also is in pain,
Why can't you see that? I'm also in vain!

I feel tired, want to be gone.
I'm so lost, I got none.
When I die, don't give me flowers,
Instead, read this poem made by the mind of the wanderer.

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