They say we all have a story,
Some choose to read it,
Some choose to live it,
And as they host old glory,
Its pages flick and turn,
While we rest oblivious of its truth,
Since chapter number one,
Thinking we'd never read our youth,
Its enchant does allure us,
And we fail to grasp the scene,
Until its nothing but treacherous,
As a glance brings us back to thirteen,
Something pricking our skin,
Tears crawl away,
Begging for something to intervene,
As we regress to feeling like a stray,
The hands have turned,
And we now read familiar days,
Forgetting all that we learned,
The memory cuts like a blade,
We realize we have returned,
To the place we'd never call home,
Because it hurt to be burned,
Because a house is not a home,
Nor life is a spoken word.
YOU ARE READING
an attempt at poetry
PoetrySincerely, just an attempt at poetry in which I try to put into words all the thoughts that rush through my mind! I really hope you enjoy <3 ps. English is not my first language so pleaaasee keep that in mind, I take any suggestions you may have
