Sad stories

Some here, some there

I write them from my soul

But no one seems to care

All they hear are woeful tales

 

Brimming eyes with tears

I wonder if they feel the pain between the lines

My hopes, dreams, and fears

 

They are a way of healing

These sorrows of mine

Pouring out the mud in my cup

To make room for sweet wine

 

But they don’t see it that way

My sad little tune

Say I am melodramatic

Opening up old wounds

 

Some say I am wasting my talent

My artistry I should save

But I prefer another old story

Than another young grave