Each day, each time
I discovered a piece of myself.
It was pretty good,
W-When I had no conscious.
But now, at each time
I regret 'everything'.
To not know anything
It's good in other ways,
Because I know there's nothing left.
But that's not t r u e
At each time now.
I lose myself.
Where discovery finally
Becomes a part of me.
YOU ARE READING
My Own Kind Of Poetry
Poetrywords scrunched up in sentences that makes only sense to me. cause no one understands.
