The longer you held the pen,

The more it bleeds pain.

They say you couldn’t write well

Thus, tiny silver tears fell.

Then, what shall you do?

Write, yet forever hide?

Love, yet forever keep?

Cry, yet forever fake?

Maybe, not this time.

 You’ll be able to do

What you want to do

And on that day,

Hiding, Keeping, Faking

Won’t be for You.