The Greats
Looking at the greats,
I can never see me there.
Never truly relate,
to their famous, praised air.
Yet every single night,
when under slumber's might,
I still manage to dream,
of the fame this life has never seen.
With a chipped tongue,
from words better left unsaid.
Never truly prepared,
for the truths my words have sung.
Did those brilliant names,
also start like this.
Writing down emotions and shames
to bury in ink's mist?
ESTÁS LEYENDO
Paper Cut Eyes
PoesíaThese are just some of the poems I write. My emotions in writing.
