The sun tries to reach out from above the sea
But soltitude's a pre-planned destiny
Seems meant to be
You may be reaching out to me
But my eyes have been slashed
I tried to push it aside, to sweep away the ash
I can't even see, anymore
Conversations feel like long-gone lore
Living in the shadows, sillhoutes all compiled into yours
He jokes and smirks, saying I adore closed doors
I stared solely at the fire and burned the smores
Eyes fixated, obsessed with something I can't have
To learn to live with just being the whole of a half
Incomplete's a puzzle I'll never quit and never solve
But writing about your problems will never make them simply dissolve
YOU ARE READING
ONE MORE TIME
PoetryA follow-up to my last poetry collection, One More Time follows feelings of fluctuating temporary peece and recurring sorrows, caused by outside factors, or uncontrollable feelings from within.
