I like to think of feelings as plants,
As beings of their own with a path,
That grow steadily from a blank slate,
But are unaware of their approaching fate,
More accurately your own as they're the reason,
At times you'll feel cold to the bone,
Like when you drown in repentance,
When you're choking on a vine,
You ache for someone's presence,
As your body begins to decline,
But them?
They grow in unbearable conditions,
Where there's no rainfall or ideal temperature,
Alone they thrive without provisions,
On pavement cracks or even gutters,
They'll evolve while everything else shatters,
They'll disregard what you'll do afterwards,
Now that they're all jumbled and messed up,
You'll cram to regardless try and move forward,
Even if what you want to do is throw them up.
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
