I'm writing down every syllable,
Trying to find the right words.
The way I feel is not feelable,
I can't seem to be heard.
This is a rough draft,
Maybe I'll go back to fix.
My words are a craft,
And these sound like I'm six.
I can't find what I want to say,
The words just won't come out.
I think them every day,
But today they're not a shout.
YOU ARE READING
Mistaken
شِعرA book of poems about the LGBT, depression, selfharm, suicide, freedom, and society.
