paperbag

Learn more about other poetry terms

When I had no place to go, your door was closed.  And when I knocked, I heard it lock. So I let the rain cover me, and as it flows with my tears, I know that I will soon have to face the mirrors.
Fidgeting, sweating palms, racing heart- Please relax I say; my insecurities can rip me apart. I'm so scared, on the fringe of fright. This disorder makes me believe that I'm not at all bright.
Fiting into my jeans is almost as difficult as fiting in with everyone else. The fear of never being wanted is almost as scary as my fear of being "that girl."
Little ones, afraid of the dark, know more than we do. They know secrets are in the dark,
If I were less afraid I would have turned myself inside out and shown you even the darkest sublevels of my conscience.  I would have scooped out my thoughts Like the innards of a pumpkin
Following an empty roadAnd down a narrow path
The doors open for shows at seven, And prohibit customers past eleven. When the time comes and the clock strikes the hour, Hundreds of people charge into the tower. Swarms of customers all rushing about,
Subscribe to paperbag