PAIN KILLER
In my pen I pack my pains.
And I won't let any ink drop in vain.
I turned my book to a punching bag,
Dropping punchlines with poetic swag.
I connected my heart to my pen,
through it I wrote myself out of depression den.
My heart is now devoid of pain,
It poured all on a paper like a rain.
The book is a loving and listening friend,
It's never pissed knowing the pains in my mind.
The world pretended to care about my pain,
But took my words to mock me again and again.
My mouth is shut against the world.
Because they careless about the pain in my word.
My pen is now my mouth.
through it, my heart speaks beyond the cloud.
In poetry I have found a drug -
A drug that cures the pains of all

Poet Joseph

Good work man...