what a twisted feeling,
when the whole world rests neatly on your shoulders only to come
crashing down
knocking into your elbows and knees on its path to the floor.
I remember when you were as tall as my knees,
and looking at you from my spot in the clouds was like a giant with the
split
second
choice, of destruction or comfort.
and every time, I lifted you up,
just high enough, to touch the ceiling, to show you my throne on the top of this mountain
where I get to see you from afar.
my visits to you are nothing more than the journey of a man
on his way up and down mt everest
bottles littering my path like mountaineer camps, or
memories
or maybe they're just bottles, and maybe those bottles are the very things that make
this mountain so hard to climb
it has been a few years since I've left my mountain,
I'll stay up here now.
Now you reach past my knees, and you don't need my help to touch the ceiling
and my world sits softly by the legs of my throne, but my shoulders somehow feel
heavier.
im still here still writing lol. back to taking an english class that requires writing poems
YOU ARE READING
Some poems
PoesiaThese are some poems I've written over the past few years in class and out of it. I don't think anyone will read these, so I'm only gonna upload them randomly when I feel like it. If anyone does read these, hope ya like em. If you feel inclined, p...
