Nothing done,
or at least some;
relapsing plans,
I should consider them,
but nothing's been done
unless I abandoned part of a chapter,
and class assignments.
Nonetheless,
my ideas were an oyster
that never died
or the ice that became its home
soon after,
for they were my home and
for one thing, I was convinced
that everyone around me
remembered each idea
like I did
as if they lived inside of
my head.
I felt that my thoughts
were classic,
jewel-like,
if to recall my creative writing.
YOU ARE READING
indoors.
PoetryWhat's a college junior to do when her young adulthood has been robbed of a rainbow of events, support, more than one tight bond, and life lessons? The birth of this collection of poetry.
