I fear my shift in control
is due to losing too much
dirt as I dug my own hole.
Beneath my soles, bones crunch,
and I am left alone
with only my thoughts as friends.
If I am a dog, then toss me a bone.
Let my starvation end.
If a candle shines bright,
then to me it is a star,
and I will stare forever into its light
as I forget my scars.
You mean the world to me,
but to you I am an island
you stumble upon within the sea,
only to set sail once again.
Am I not shiny enough?
Do I not sparkle in the sun?
Is my shell too rough?
Is my quiet beauty overdone?
YOU ARE READING
Foreign Heart - A Poetry Collection
PoesíaEmotions continue to perplex me, and this is me simply trying my hardest to understand where they come from and what they mean.
