I feel like the beams on which a house stands.
My solid foundation meant to subdue.
For the family inside, the greater it grew.
I envy the house for the freedom it's given.
To pass on its weight to the willing and striven.
I'm jealous of how the house can lay blame.
When I snap and crack or start to wane.
The pressure they give forces me down.
Oh, to watch in silence as they watch me drown.
YOU ARE READING
It is but what we feel
PoetryThis is just some of the emotional work that I wrote while working on my current work in progress honestly it's quite personal to me there are just short poems of sorts I suppose but they were most certainly written with emotion. This isn't linked...
