Art of Pain

Your lips taste like a scar,
A scar wounded my soul,
Who brought myself deep down
Into its own darkness.

Your hug warms me like a good bye,
One final feeling of happiness in my heart,
As it welcome again the pain and emptiness,
Endlessly torturing my whole body.

Your touch feels like a fire burning my skin,
It gives shivers into my spine,
It rips my heart,
It burns my soul.

Your eyes tell me lies,
Lies that shines like a moon,
It has its never ending glow,
Pleading that I should believe.

Risen

You cannot call yourself a winner,
If you didn't called yourself first a loser.
Because not all the time or battle you are in,
You'll win.

Sometimes in order for you to win,
You must accept defeat first.
It's for you to persevere and achieve more,
For every failure brings you a lesson,
A lesson that can teach you
To become more stronger and wiser person.

It's true that you cannot feel the real victory,
If you didn't work hard for it through blood and sweat.
Just like what everybody says,
"The more pain we overcome, the stronger we become."

She lives the poetry she cannot write.