i have a house.
i live on this house everyday.
the skin on this house is bruised and calloused with insecurity.
the hair on this house is thick with roots and thin in beauty
her neighbors walk by and make fun of my house.
i hate my house.
my house is horrid. my house is deranged. my house is rotting.
YOU ARE READING
songs of a broken heart.
Poetrythere is great beauty in pain. you can hear my pain in my words. "every secret of a writer's soul, every experience of his life, every quality of his mind is written large in his works," - virginia wolf
