I had always just been floating,
ungrounded and ever seeking.
I had been looking for the writer,
to make my story brighter.
She seemed to lurk in every corner,
making my days go ever mourner.
She would attack and we'd collide,
thought to thicken, but I lost my hide.
I would get up again and smile,
then she thought she'd been too mild.
Hiding in the shadows she has,
after all the rain was all there was.
I did pick up a pen one day,
and started forming the words like clay.
Instead of search for allegory,
it was time to go and write my own story!
It was a switch in time,
all this time I'd been holding the dime.
I wrote myself a very nice chapter,
I would fight and learn, but never faulter.
I thought myself to be the writer of my book,
but surprises lurk in every single nook.
Turns out everyone but me holds the feather,
and I can only watch it like the weather.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry Collection
PoetryDear readers, We live in a vastly complicated world fabricated by humans. To me that makes things very confusing and emotional. It's a way of life, a pressure, and stress that I cannot place into my life. My personality doesn't fit within our Wester...
