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i create these beautiful things in my mind but they quickly escape from it, not wanting to be written on paper. they deserve so much more, so i never get the chance to actually see them in front of me. they're probably afraid like me... afraid that nobody will understand them and treat them the way words should be. they're fragile and misunderstood, but as they grow through me like vines and pass by like death, i will soon see that they were made to be shown like skin and shine like the sky, so effortlessly bright.
YOU ARE READING
CATASTROPHES
Poetrythis is my lame attempt to write my inner thoughts and desires. i hope you enjoy it X
