Today I found two of my old poems,
I hated every moment of rewriting them out,
It takes me back to those sad days I had,
Every lie, every tear, every sinful doubt.
Today I found old photos,
Ones that should be burnt,
Ones of me and my old friends,
Looking so happy, thinking about everything I had learnt.
I don't miss those days,
I'm happy the way I am today,
Without a worry in the world,
With every say.
I rather be like this,
Then what I was back then,
I rather love my mother then hate her,
And loving every word under my pen.
I rather be happy,
With no marks on my legs and arms,
With no pain in my heart and soul,
Praying on every charm.
