Apart from rage I am possessive.
I hate seeing my things in anyone's embrace.
I don't share what's mine.
What's mine is mine.
And maybe, just maybe, that was the result of being given things as a child and then having them given to someone else without my permission the next day.
YOU ARE READING
A Perspective
PoetryThis is a compilation of my personal written poetry. No matter how emotionless you seem to everyone, eyes tend to tell them how you really feel. What was it that you saw, that it made you who you are today? Would you believe me that it's your point...
