poem
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Dancing to the beat of my own drum. Singing the words to songs never written down. I long for the day that the world stops spinning out of control. There is no end to this madness. Only a girl and the songs inside her bones. Hoping one day that they’d break so that those songs
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I am not as strong. I have to be sure. To describe my feelings Toward you. Dear future me, you’ve got a storm coming.
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I am concrete. I am hard yet porous. I am cracked concrete. Beautiful AND Dangerous. I am wet concrete. I take the shape of where I am poured. I am all of these things and more. You never knew how complex concrete could be. If only you stopped to take notice.
Trapped In The Margins 