SADNESS!

Sadness flows out of my Fingers
and accumulates
near the corner of my diary page;
like ink spilled from a slope
But, on the plain ground of paper.

Sadness knows no rhyme
or rythm, meter, metaphors;
It just drips off me
and finds existence
that is dependent
on the words I choose
to decorate it with.

Sadness cannot distinguish
between conscious and subconscious
right and wrong
useless and Worthy
It only knows
how to feel
and it can only be felt.

Sadness flows out of my fingers
and accumulates
near the corner of my diary page;
and I run on the trails
It left for me
to find the deepest ache
to end my Poem.
~ Navina✍