The Book of Secrets

When you're happy don’t wait,

Live.

When you’re sad

Write poems.

And if the emptiness expand

Make it a melody in the space

So it can be so painfully beautiful

As the sadness

And it can seep for you.

When you’re writing, tell about love

Because love poems will always be read.

Make a plastic beauty in each verse

So, when it leaks,

Let the bloody red be crimson as a pretty sunset painting.

Paint the void with a hot pink

And it will be seen on your behalf, while you hide.

When a huge knot suffocate your gut inside,

Vomit everything in form of public words for no one

And when someone asks you about the meaning

Just answer them:

I'm a poet.