These lines don't define me,
And never will it be so;
Yes, they are apart of me,
So much more than you know.
These lines tell a story,
That story is not only mine -
It's stories I have heard
And they've echoed in my mind.
Perhaps, one day I'll see
These lines fade to dust,
Although I loved these lines,
I believe it may be lust.
My lines are a part of me,
And others so it seems.
These lines have woven paths for me,
And stitched up all my seams.
One day I'll show you my lines,
Please don't run away in fear;
For these lines will tell you my stories
That I've built upon, year after year.
Maybe one day I will forget,
But my lines will remind me of it all -
They'll tell me of the times I've flied,
And the depth of every fall.
One day you'll learn to love these lines,
It's taken me a while;
But, now, where I once wore a frown,
I can't help myself but smile.
YOU ARE READING
An Amalgamation of Words
PoetryI'm almost as bad at writing descriptions as I am at writing poems, but at least I tried. Sharing my inner turmoil, one poorly worded sentence at a time.
