the journey to who I am
couldn't have come sooner
out of all the times
—the wounds left to pester
I found where my soul
has been hiding
Inside a battered body
—flogged by the waves
of life
—too young to be bloody
and bent
—unusable by society
junk and spent
the journey to who I can be
wouldn't come now or ever
out of all the disgrace
—scars scratched, fire and ember
I didn't find my future
or does it still exist?
Under the sky
above my bed
I lay in pieces
—in truth to who I am
by looking at the works
of my callous hands
I only love in silence
—under wraps and shadows
I only die in pretense
—I go from the deeper shallows
I only speak truth in sadness
—perhaps that's my destiny
I only lie in heartache
—so I can hide how much life
has shattered me
april 15, 2021
YOU ARE READING
every thing is sad
Poetry❝𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘮 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘦𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘥❞ ˜"*°•˜"*°•˜"*°• tired of life? you're not alone. this collection will give you the perfect dose...
