This chaos is not home
I am not home
Yet i am cold and my body is unfamiliar
Nothing remains but the pain in my chest
The rest of me is dust
Chipping off with every gust
But i remain standing
And i will remain strong
Fix it
Fix fix fix
So much to fix
So little of me left
YOU ARE READING
My Boring Escapades.
Poetry"Breaking free from the thoughts of others." Not alot makes sense in this book. Its not supposed too. They most definitely might be terrible, its just my way of keeping track of things I write no matter how terrible. These are unedited, theyre only...
