Running around in these heels,
I feel so confident but not real.
My mind tunnels to the thoughts,
That bring me to my moments lost,
Within this cavernous room.
Filled to the brim, I am the broom.
In this closet of supplies,
I clean up after all the lies;
My lies, your lies and everyone's in between.
It's easy to say but hard to clean.
Everyday I stay at home,
Everyday that I roam,
I think and think and think,
And I see you and I know.
This burden is not mine;
At least not mine alone.
YOU ARE READING
Fly Away
PoetryThese are just some poems that I wrote mostly at midnight. Why midnight? I don't know. Most of them are pretty random topics so if you don't like one just move to the next because it will most probably be on a different topic or have a different sty...
