Can you call yourself a poet when the only thing you do
Is pinning faded photos of people
Running down dark halls
And rain on old university windows?
I guess we're all different in a way in our eyes
What's the difference in the color of your soul
In the eyes of an artist
and their eyes through a hole
Is it the color or the content you seek?
Is it the answers you want or the answers you need?
Are you broken because you let yourself fall?
Or did you trust they would hold you but fell through their trawls?
No one knows. I don't know, we don't know
Somehow there's an answer we will never get
But it's out there, far from our views
Of the world we built up with the dust of our shoes.
03.05.2023
YOU ARE READING
Some More Poems
Poetry😌☕👌 Here are some more poems that I wrote. I hope it sparks some inspiration in you or, at the very least, gets you thinking. It's a lot this time and I had fun.
