(Poems) – yourself

every poem can be about you

if you don’t commit to a self.

you can stay a shifting pile of neuroses,

trapped between a coffee cup and wine glass.

the kind of mess which stains.

that you can never get out of your skin.

cause you never had enough words in yourself,

or a clue of where to go.

One response to “(Poems) – yourself”

  1. How is this so beautiful and painful at the same time? 😭


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