Learn more about other poetry terms

Sand in the wind, it blows and flies. Hot, sharp sand lands in my eyes. The pain and screams I keep inside. Oh the pain, I want to die.
  I gaze at the world Above Me   Endless and open   Beyond my reach A world I yearn for   You can’t go, you can’t fly …I want to
Kinky they say,  Too curly to be cared about.   But the coil is my culture; Constantly defined unattractive,   Under-appreciated efforts, Tragically tainted tries.  
Let water run deep.  Let my river run like my feet as far they can go going with the flow.   Just another water drop, another person in a mob. Immersed in the vast expense
Why do I do this to myself? I push myself to be fit Yet I can't always do it on my own. Do I even love myself anymore? First it's my job now it's the gym, My only other happy place.
 Their Eyes  like fire that burn like hell.  So the bright she still has trouble looking directly into people's eyes on the pretense that she might ignite. The comments turned a little girl into an internal battle of emotion.
Each thorn digging into my scalp the loudness of the blaring red roses 
Subscribe to 'insecurity'