But you left
and I stayed.
The pain eating me away.
No, I couldn't cry,
I had too much pride.
So, here I am now,
bleeding ink onto papers instead.
Every word telling a tale,
of the scars that I hid.
-KT
YOU ARE READING
22
PoetryAlthough the age 21 is where you're considered a proper adult, 22 is actually where the reality of adulting sinks in. It is a phase where, you're clueless as to where to begin and run in circles. Well, at least most of us. It is a...
