Writing a poem about how everything is awesome
but my possum it ain't the truth.
Sometimes I think I should get my dreams and tossum
but I'll blossom, stay devoted and follow through.
Created these goals after having been through the ringer
I lingered in complacence and met my maker.
Drank too much, sexed too much.
Worked too little, Cared even less.
Delved into self-destruction, that honestly felt good.
Abuse, misuse, and lack of love evolved into autonomy.
No longer is their transparency.
No longer am I desperate for you to see.
who I be
and to me, this butterfly is lovely.
And although nothing seems better than a caterpillar wrapped in chaos and discrepancy,
this butterfly is lovely.
This poem is about:
Guide that inspired this poem: