I wish that everything would stop
as I play my own part, in my own universe.
No more will I be their useless prop.
I will be free from this wretched curse.
— from a time when I actually made things rhyme.
YOU ARE READING
up in the clouds
Poetryshe felt trapped, or more likely she really was stuck wherever she was. writing poems was her escape out of the black hole she fell in through. whenever she wrote what she had to say and expressed what she had felt, it was almost like she was up in...
