my crest of ink

these walls have been staring

what are you waiting for?

i need a moment

its not as easy as it looks

 

embodying solus

but i cant shake the watchful eyes

forego the parable

this ink belongs on paper

 

its how it feels that counts

no one has to know

what if somebody sees it

what if

 

so this is the raw me

vulnerable in every way

there is strength in these lines

it gets easier i suppose

 

the heart is made of muscle after all

 

This poem is about: 
Me

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741