i decorate my room--
not my bedroom, but
the room inside my
mind-- with a string of
lights and paper hearts
it's a pretty sight,
until the fairy lights
set my paper hearts
alight with flames and
everything is a mess
of burnt out bulbs
and ashes in my hair
i wish i'd left those
damn walls bare
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...
