Home run!
you’ve run the mile in circles and came back to square one
you’ve touched, begged and borrow for moments where you’re not alone
and now you still drown in your sorrows
over coming every tomorrows
now was I too nice?
or was my eyebrows too furrowed?
now I let people roll my dice
“oh no it’s okay!”
whispers the wounded
“no! it’s totally cool!”
says the one paying
“oh it’s no problem! don’t worry ’bout it I’ll be just fine!”
screams the girl who just want to be acknoledged
now she stares her self down on the mirror wondering
wheter she’ll survive this one
Softball
I don’t like calling my art poems though much might say so, I never think that my silly little writings are ever good enough to be called “art” I always thought that, that would make actual poets felt invalidated. But if art is whatever the artist thinks is, then I’d like to think that this is art.
nana's corner 