I live in a paper castle made up of paper walls, paper rooms and paper people.
One day I decided I wanted to burn it.
I am made up of paper skin, paper hair and paper thoughts.
I know that if I burn the castle I will be brought down along with it.
I don't even care.
I live in a town made up of smoke and ashes.
It was once burned down.
I woke up one night watching my life burning right before my eyes.
I shrieked as my skin slowly disintegrated into ash.
Now I am solely pieces of scattered debris
And I float around.
A/N: I found this written in one of my old journals and it's kind of random and not really a poem but I decided I wanted to post it. I am quite sure that what it used to mean to me is different that what it means to me now and what it will mean to any one of you who will read it.
YOU ARE READING
Excerpts From a Lonely Heart
PoetryYou are holding my heart. Peel off a layer - there lays an enigmatic labyrinth. Dig deeper, and you will come face to face with a mystifying puzzle. The thing with a heart is that it does not only go deeper. It is such a dynamic complexity that it...
