Stuck Poems
most days i don't
know what to do
with the poems
stuck in my lungs.
or begin to know how
to set them free. there
is no air & i've let go
of the hope that you
would understand
(it's alright).
but you see, i've grown
accustomed to
suffocating while living
(it's called existing)
& it's the one thing i
know that i do well.
so this is just a raw
piece of me
(if you care for this sort of flavor).
something to hold you
over while i take the
time to become
something better.
This poem is about:
Me