I want to be a poem
Or a starry night sky-
Maybe just a memory you knew as a child.
I want to be a poem
Or the stain of my thoughts
An ever-growing fungus, lovely rot
What makes poems troublesome?
They never seem to end-
The meanings they hold bend and shift, shift to bend.
History keeps changing,
And laughter might fail
So I'll try to mend these bonds with my patchwork of tales
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Edited 11/14/2024
YOU ARE READING
Ode to Life
PoetryIt's chaos to figure out how to live. To love yourself, to love others, to create, to destroy. It's just life. But maybe... just life isn't a bad thing? You can't have good without the ugly. This has all my poems combined, this'll be my only poetry...
