My Year in Poetry
This time last year,
I was love torn
Love sick
"Sick" isn't even strong enough-
I was dying of consumption
And what was eating me was
Misguided affection
Blind devotion to a boy
Blindly devoted to a dream
I'm still recovering
I had relapses, rebounds, redirection
But this year is better than the last,
Though
My sight's still blurry from time to time
And my heart still aches with foolish sorrow,
It's still beating
And how many people can say that?
This poem is about:
Me
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: