Writer. Creative Director. Art. Found a way out.
smoke with me? roll up for me grind the pain to powder? almost - not as fine
By KIRA 4 years ago in Poets
I can tell that you wanted me cold Never really knowing - why I'd hurt myself to get to you.
From childhood's hour, I claim dusk Moonlight beaming down, a proud mother Will scenic salvation be my first invitation? Is it my plight to reject the light, sole comfort in the night?
So then you'll never know me. I am not the picture you painted - Monet.. Nor potential for you to waste. Cheesin' keeps your eyes on me. Never could fit the frame.
Pain seems to be etched into my skin. Bane of my existence. Carved like ancient readings, ingrained in my soul.. Braille to you.
By KIRA 5 years ago in Poets