i'm trapped
within a body that isn't my own
when did i become foreign to myself?
my skin
wound tightly
around fragile bones and delicate blood
that don't belong to me.
no matter how i cover it
it doesn't change the shape underneath.
a dandelion growing in a daisy garden.
a star shining bright at noon.
the universe picked the wrong star dust
when giving my soul a home.
YOU ARE READING
metanoia
PoetryM E T A N O I A (n.) : the journey of changing one's mind, heart, self, or way of life this is my first poetry book, and because this book is not completed yet they are very unorganized. when i'm finished the book will be rearranged. all poetry is...
