A pile of ash is all we see,
A pile of nothing is all we know.
A pile of something is just like leaves,
Because leaves blow in the wind.
An empty pile of something that wants to be filled,
Is just like my stomach.
My stomach hurts, and is empty just like my words.
My pile is filled with nothing but what we say, feel and are.
I have my own pile of ash that no body can see,
It's what makes me cry, it's what gets me up in the morning, it's a drug that I'm addicted to and it's what makes me stronger than who I used to be.
YOU ARE READING
The Depths of the Heart
PoezieAll my work is mine, I wrote it so no stealing 😑. Please comment and like it, add it to your library please!! My work is kinda society based off of, it's also deep, and different, straight forward. I have short and long poems. Hope you like it and...
