You are not your age
Nor the size of the clothes you wear
You are not a weight
Or the colour of your hair
You are not your name
Or the dimples in your cheeks
You are all the books you read
And all the words you speak
You are your croaky morning voice
And the smiles you try to hide
You are the sweetness in your laughter
And every tear you've cried
You are the songs you sing so loudly
When you know you're all alone
You're the places that you've been to
And the one that you call home
You are the things that you believe in
And the people that you love
You are the photos in your bedroom
And the future you dream of
You are made of so much beauty
But it seems you forget
When you decided that you were defined,
By all the things you're not.
—e.h.
YOU ARE READING
•||roses||•
Poesíaa bouquet full of roses a pocket full of thorns ------------------------------------------------ Dedicated to @malikzlays ------------------------------------------------ I have not written these, Just compiled them for People who could do With a...
