Many years, when I lay sprawled out in my casket, will the corners of my mouth be tilting up or down?
Will I still look like I'm drowning in my own blue eyes, or will I look peaceful?
How long will my death dress have to be to hide all the scars that kissed every inch of my body?
Will the only thing that reminded me I was alive let others know I once was?
Will I be who I truly am or who society told me to be?
YOU ARE READING
My Constellation of Poems ⭐️
PoetryWe ourselves are a lot like stars. We look around and see that we are surrounded by others. Millions. We are no different. You see, but we don't realize our ability to shine bright, or that a child may be looking out their window wishing upon us. We...
