Poems from Mesa
I wanna go back
Start fresh
Try again
Rewind time
Revise the words I wrote
Edit the comments I made
Tend to the wounds I created
Bite my...
The rising of anxiety, is riding me, so privately and I can't seem to find my needs, so I just sit here silently, No sense of propiety,...
If you would only listen, not just to my words, but to the grammar in my sentences, the quivering in my voice, the lowness of my tone, then...
This is no thanksgiving, No gifts or laughter,
Its a hidden story, of pain and disaster
I speak of many paths, full of tears and blood...