The birth of me was late by a margin.
Supposed to be a Capricorn, born an Aquarius.
My birthday is late,
My skin was born dry,
And I gave my parents the headache
Of being born in a blizzard.
I wonder if two weeks was enough time
To change me entirely.
If two weeks had not passed,
Would I be standing in the same position?
Two weeks late,
Here I am.
Two weeks late,
I am here.
It took time to construct me this way,
And I can't let this world tear down
From the fact I was born two weeks late.
YOU ARE READING
The Beginning To The End
PuisiI've never been a poet, that much is certain, but I can tell you that it does get written. A lot. These are the collections of my poetry I've written, and some of them hit hard for me.
