I left not because I don’t love you, but because I love myself more. The happy memories I could never
So out of touch, yet of an arms reach. My language of love runs deep. Something that I can teach.
A short rhyming poem that reflects a struggling poet’s inner thoughts and feelings.
Ties tangled under my heart. Unrecognizable due to its chains. Bones aching for a change yet, nails clawing at the
You’re surrounded by it, but there is no one. Filled with watery eyes, but empty inside. They say you’ll be
“Art is boring to me.” “I can’t stare at a painting for more than two minutes.” “I just don’t get
You see my wound And say “it will be okay” “Rub some dirt on it and go play” “It will