I'm sorry that I'm not your perfect picture-I didn't know I'd be framed and put on a wall.
My glass: it shatters, as you just sit back and watch me fall.
I'm like an art museum, please don't touch, just look.
My heart is open like a big black book.
YOU ARE READING
Babies Born Broken
Poesíaliving life through my broken brown eyes eyes perceived through my messy words.
