We're all different,
and we're all a form of art.
Shapes,
skin,
it's all illusion on those tapes,
the real form is the kind that will never be
perfect.
YOU ARE READING
Maeve's Poetry
PoetryThis is a bundle of my poems. Yes, those I write too. Feedback is always allowed! These poems may not be pretty, and some may be. These poems are the plump heart to darkness and light. Red, and grim, but still beating, and now in your hand, I give y...
Body
We're all different,
and we're all a form of art.
Shapes,
skin,
it's all illusion on those tapes,
the real form is the kind that will never be
perfect.
