What are these words but an outlet of thoughts
Not great, mediocre perhaps...

I verbed a noun,
Added commas, here and there...

They tiptoed into the vacant space,
Took refuge there, scattered all around...

Each one mixed the vibrant colours,
And with different strokes of the brush...

My heart's sad again; wants to write a verse
Dipped in bloody melancholic tone and depressing...

While it fully bloomed
It was but a momentary bliss...

The silence we so often contributed to
Spoke so much our words couldn't...

The bright crimson rose
Bloomed fully well in the season...

I forced my pen to ink those words
That seemed unwilling to appear...