I don't think I even write poetry anymore. I'm just dumping words onto a page in a way that I guess sounds okay, looks okay on my phone screen.
But I don't write to be understood, I don't write to share what I'm feeling with others (even though I love to know that maybe someone's reading), I just write. Write for myself, because I'm too scared to say what I mean. Because I want to remember this, every second, even if it's not so great. Because what else would I do, when there are words filling my heart, words filling my brain? Because I don't know how to feel, and I'm hoping someday I'll look back on these words and cringe at how young and inexperienced I was. How I wasn't happy, and didn't know how to deal with it. Really, I'm just keeping a journal (because I don't think anyone really reads this, and even if they did they probably wouldn't understand half of it) but what's the point of that?
I don't think this is even poetry at this point. It's just words that I tell myself sound nice, with a few random spaces in between.
YOU ARE READING
Unbreakable
PoetryNOUN 1. Unable to be broken, indestructable. "She wasn't yet, but one day she'd be unbreakable, free from the chains that held her." //BREAKABLE book #2// The daily ramblings and thoughts of a girl just...
