This place is a
Prison
The way my mind
Wanders
In constant
Bother
It seems and lurks
And at times
Hurts
Melts the ice
from the icy
Black
Sticks and Chains
And devilish
Blames
And the woods
They call
From up above
Hearing inside
How I wanna
Hide...
This place is a
Prison
It is like
When you see
That guy you
Like
When you do not
Know what to say
When he knows
Your gay
And feel a burn
The sensation
The knowing
The always
Owning
Up to realize
That this is real life
Writing is a passion
But so is smiling
When you write
So much it is like
You know the words
They are in
Your head
When you close
Your eyes
Maybe we can tear
This prison...
Down to the
Ground
YOU ARE READING
Poetry Slams And After Thoughts
PoetryAllow me to explain... On every social media there is an "About Me" section. If you want me to tell you "About Me" in less than 500 words. How can I? it's like 'let me know who you are and than I can judge you'. My "About Me" section are my thoughts...
