mry c.
the most flamboyant of all my friends
yet frankly, my only friend.
at no time will a day come,
where i do not think of you as remarkable.
mry c.
to have you as my pal,
is a gift given from someone
(or something)
(whom we are both not sure exists).
mry c.
you made me believe in benevolence,
you saved me from the pattern
and created a way with the omission.
where we construct our own galaxy:
to fill the void,
to shape our peculiar planets,
to twist rings around them,
and to render them our own.
YOU ARE READING
poems for the ones who are just like me
Poetryjust some poetry that explains what i don't know how to explain. in other words; just an eighteen year old girl, being eighteen.
