You can cry.
When you are still young,
You can scream,
On the top of your lungs.

When people who you knew,
Don’t know you anymore.
You can cry to the pain,
That made you sore.

They don’t know,
What you want.
Or who you are,
They stay for a while,
And leave a scar.

You think they would heal you,
And they would for a while.
But then they would leave,
And leave you in exile.

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Mishthi Shukla is a 15 years old Student.

“I write poems to escape the world, I dream to heal people.”

Email- mishthishukla8@gmail.com

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