Are We Writing The pain..Or The Pain Is The One Who Is Writing Us?

Does our words really say how do we feel pain inside..?

And how can that pain remains only lines on our papers  written by our pens?

How can these pages simply folded from our life?

Does our pens can't tell and explain when we want it to draw a picture to the ruins of happiness..?

Could it be the feeling of depression is what our senses is disclosing..?

How these lines seem harsh when we write it with a feelings that declare the falling in the absence of happiness...?

How can the happiness knock the door of this broken heart to pulse with life?

When...

When ..Not hear and do not want to hear only their voices in spite of their absence..

When ..Remember the most important and accurate details and the dialogues that lived with them..

When ..Not see only their images and laughter in front of you because your eyes do not see else..

When ..you see their footprints that reminds with all the nice time that you had together...cos they once walked into your life..

When ..you glance their fingerprints cos they left their special touches on the tiniest details in your life, a smile drawn on your face even if you don't want to..

When ..all that happens in one moment, you feel like the time is rewinding backwards to live all that again...