I am a soft person.
I let anything slide by,
Even if it hurts.
I hold everything in,
At least until I explode.
I hurt myself,
Along with others.
I don't mean to.
I used to not be such a soft person.
I used to catch everything.
Somethings,
I let go by.
Other things,
I hold on to.
I tell some people how I feel.
Others have no clue.
I used to hurt myself,
More than now.
After the skin healed,
It would be hurt again,
And again.
I feel a new person rising though.
She is strong, yet soft.
She can say what she needs to say.
Of course,
She'll get hurt..
What does she do when that happens?
I don't know.
Maybe she doesn't hurt herself.
Maybe she doesn't hold everything in.
Maybe....
I can live when she rises up...
And will stay.
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I think I write pretty good poetry... May not be considered that, but ya know... I try.
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My Poems
PoetryThis is where I'll write all my poems that I write from day to day. Whether one a day, two, or none. Some maybe cliché..
