you are a stacked tower of satellite gloom / glowering your raspy doom in drab lighting / grey as crackled concrete spitting / tart textures of gravel into / every / crooked / crevice
All in Poetry
Absenteeism
But the only home I ever knew,
Was embodied in to the thought of you.
Reflections
At dusk,
When heartbreak comes knocking
At your door, be kind, let it pass
Breakdown Season
i see the fragments everywhere now:
i spot the cracks, the crevices,
the shedding of shells and shards,
flying off like freebound scrapnel—
the ache of everyone flaking away,
fading into the sunlight of day;
Declaration of Independence
Once - we were all that child.
Mother, what happened ?
My words have escaped my touch;
my thoughts cannot find home.
To The River
I can smell burnt nerves
below my nose
in this dizziness, caused by a fire;
there is not enough air left for me here...
The Storm
A ring, a reverberation, a vibration, a brash ration...
This article contains amateur poetry written in verse (barring the two short ones at the end). Of writing poetry, I have the following to say. Firstly, it is surprisingly difficult. Secondly, writing poetry feels weird. Lastly, whilst I thought trying my hand at poetry was extremely enjoyable, sometimes I felt like abandoning it all and writing an article about something easier and, more importantly, less personal.
She was brought up by the seaher mind was the ocean...