I watch my ashes fly away sometimes
You'd think with the amount of times that I die I have lived at least once
It doesn't really seem to work like that.
I think killing my tumultuous emotions would liberate me;
Somehow believing becoming an empty void counts as freedom
It doesn't.
I crave renewal so I find some way to die
Dead people are the ones who get resuscitated right
Not this heart
No matter how many times it dies, somehow it doesn't wake up any better.
This is my entry for the February has heart wattpad poetry contest
YOU ARE READING
Six : Spoken word poetry
Poesia#1 in poetry 14/03/19!!! #3 in the Diamond Star Awards Poetry :) Short listed in the Page is Printed UK 2017 :)) Six words turned into six poems. NB : not the happiest poetry. ~L.e
