My vocabulary isn't all that extensive
Which only makes me more apprehensive
About what the future holds
Was this art form meant for me
I try waiting patiently
But when will my words flow freely
When will my words fall endlessly and eloquently onto my pages
When will my words speak fluently
The languages of love and destruction and joy
When will I be satisfied with the expression of my thoughts
Do I search for the words
Or should I let them find me;
in an epiphany of colorful visions
If I search where do I go
What literary lands should I roam
How do I remold what I absorb
Into something of my own
And if not that,
How long will I have to wait
Till fate decides to deliver the next fill of coal
To lighten my soul and spark my imagination to write
3.6.18
I don't really like this one too much (the irony, I know). It felt more like I was venting than writing a poem, but at the same time I like it for was it is somewhat
YOU ARE READING
Ongoing Poetry
PoetryMy attempt at Poetry....? Random poems I write, nothing special. Just thoughts passing through. This is also a book representing the living irony of a person who loves to write, but can't grammar to save their life. Hope you enjoy anyway~
