The White Paper
Stuck between the lines,
The only place where I don't get detained by all the crimes.
Silent sins, where everything begins,
The knife that cuts so deep,
They say, “Calm down,” this is not for the weak.
No building holding up the structure,
Everything’s on the ground, already fractured.
Like the shadows on the hills, slowly fading away,
Another color turns to gray.
Like the metal of the chain,
Once shining… now rusts like the wrecks of a train.
The pen waits to write the final lines of the story,
Where pain is written so beautifully,
It almost feels like glory.
Or is it just the hidden truth on the white paper,
Stacked in different layers?
The empty lines erased, never embraced…
The ones that were misplaced,
A silent disaster that quietly escaped.
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