whyIWritePoetry
Learn more about other poetry terms
I am soaking wet
In a sweatshirt two sizes too large
And in a skin bound too tightly for me to ever fully claim as my own
Poetry is the mirror in a dingy restroom
with fluorescent lighting, a moldy ceiling
Poetry is a heartfelt thing
coming up as a promise ring
Getting goose bumps when you sing,
but when you sit down letting the world be blank
You realize everything as it is
