Poems from Harmareli
Children are things of transitory thought,
but in that elementary cafeteria I knew
that leave you I ought not.
With eyes like a robin's...
I'm a number, a statistic,
a misfit and you don't give a shit
because all you want is the money.
In a world dictated by economy,
full of...
I am seventeen,
and I have never met one as young as me
to suffer from PTSD.
All I want is attention.
I just cause tension.
I'm faking it...
I see broken children walk down the street
and I realize their pain has created a fleet
of the shattered and crying.
Their tattered clothes...
My mind makes a mosaic of memory,
glass projections tied together in fluidity.
Nonsense shapes incomplete but cooperating
in order to make...