Littleoflife (lol)

In the middle of the night, beneath the million stars, there's a beating heart wounded trying to heal, shattered trying to hold, hold on to the memories, It wished was the reality It would try try to fill it with colors as it was slowly fading away black and white, some random colors just here and there, blurred visions somewhere, or was it just the tear? was it tired of holding on? was it ready to outgrow? was peace finally finding it? was it ready to let go?

  With a pen and a paper, I sat down, to write about myself, but somehow, the paper was empty, just like my heart but the pen? there was no ink left, and I realized nothing could explain me better, better than this an empty paper, with finished ink