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Every day of my life
is spent on the thought
and on the idea
that I could make it
It was nice for a few days
—made me believe everything
was possible but I
pull myself down
before I got too far
in the land of dreams
Reality, as it turns out,
won't give you anything
you wanted or sometimes
even what you needed
Every day of my life
is spent on clawing for
the remnants of what's
for others because in the end,
it's only the scraps that are
meant for me
YOU ARE READING
an adjournment of scars, an endearment of stitches
Poetry❝𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘧𝘢𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘨𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘭𝘵𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘴 𝘢�...
