flowers bloom along
my arm in little curls
of ink and wind their
way down my skin
searching, until
they bury themselves
in my entirety and burst
through the ground
where my shadow is cast
and i itch to stretch
into the sunlight and
grow, grow like
my flowers
YOU ARE READING
i wouldn't call it poetry
Poetrybasically, 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...
