I feel like at some point I broke my mind, and
what you see is only the rind
If you think you know me,
You got it easy
You only know one part of the story
It's a tapestry!
Woven stories like silk
With needles sharp enough to sting
Some can open their hearts up
So quickly it scares me
I'm an artist,
With paint on my hands
Yet a writer,
With blood on the stands
Hyper-awareness scares me
To feel everything in definition
And apathy comforts me
Like a numbing injection
So which personality are you talking about?
Which one do you want?
Pick your Poison.
The key or the doormat?
The canvas or the brush?
The patient or the doctor?
I'm afraid you'd have to explain
Which personality you're talking about.
YOU ARE READING
Poems I made
PoetryThe poems I make up both in the bathroom and during school/study time (oh god the first few are the worst)[This is mostly for me to keep track of my poetry progress and how many poems I've made]
