Day: May 25, 2018

If I could write
A thousand books
But not a single one
Did you ever look
Inside to read
Just one measly page
What would that
Mean to me?

I’ve lived for
Fifteen-thousand days
And if I’d only live for
Fifteen-thousand more
Please let me spend
All that time
Wandering a
Foreign shore

For the world I live in
Makes no sense
I’ve yet to see
Some recompense
For feelings I’ve
Given freely
My heart poured
Into silly poetry

I can confidently
Write
What I admittedly
Have felt
Can meaningfully
Piece together
What would
Needlessly
Be thrown away

For I wrote it all
To know my truth
If I possessed what it took
To find the light
And the dark
Deep inside of me