It's hard,
Being so upside down,
Feeling everything changing
And knowing I'll go with it.
I thought my fate was outlined,
A straight line in a finished painting.
But it changed,
Too fast to know
Where left is and
Where up went and
Whether or not
Right was wrong this whole time.
But most importantly,
Who am I?
Where did I go,
What will become of me?
Left to be just
Wet smears on a dripping canvas,
Carving more paths with every second.
YOU ARE READING
Window: A Collection of Poems
PuisiFancy pants poems that my sad self comes up with. "Have a poem, and a good day." -me :)
