For my very first article here on WHI, I decided to write a short poem about writing itself. Everything just felt melancholic.
Just like the rest of my stories. It may not be the best poem but..yeah.
Here it is:


Poetry is splendor, a magnificent work of art.
but what will one do if he had lost his heart?

For the beauty of the cosmos in him, he has forgotten.
And the rhyme he once had, time have stolen.

In pain, the poet bled words
now he hides tears in the curtains of the

To write is to give light
but what will I do if I have lost my heart?