Words bounced around my brain.
They caused no sunshine,
These words struggled,
They were words at any rate.
But they struggled,
To get into poetry form.
They struggled into a mental storm.
Still the story couldn't come out.
It stayed in the writer's mind.
This story was a one of a kind.
Then one day,
The writer sat down,
In the words that were coming out.
The words became a story that everyone read out loud.
Comments about this poem (Silent Story by Vera Sidhwa )
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