i make empty
promises and hide
from them until i can't
hide anymore
because the game
of hide-and-seek is over
and i feel cramped
in a stranger's
kitchen cupboard
i can't decide if i'd rather
be dragged from my safe
haven and cower before
their anger when they
find me, still hiding after
days have gone by and the
game is no fun anymore
or discover that
everyone gave up
and went home
without me
YOU ARE READING
i wouldn't call it poetry
Poesíabasically, this is like less than half of my poetry journal. umm... here you go UPDATE: 12/20/17 I've been going through the long process of cleaning up my account so it'll be presentable for the now multiple people at school who want to read my emb...
