Poems from PsychoAspect
Why is it with poetry
I can go on and on for hours
Yet with a book
I can’t write past the first chapter?
Maybe I was born to be a poet...
Love is a dangerous fragment of our broken world
Yet I crave to feel it.
I was told love was the equivalent to waking up on a foggy morning...
Am I toxic?
She tells me I’m toxic
No
She tells me I lie
No
She tells me I’m selfish and hurt people around me
No, no, no, no, no
She tells...
There are days I miss the broken part of me
Its left an empty space where a scar once laid
My depression left but my hopeless stayed
Maybe...
Dear Best Friend,
My hand may not draw
Like your hand draws
It may not follow a perfect circle
It may not scribble straight
It may not...