February 2012
21 posts
1 tag
1 tag
free write poem
we get lines of verses inked to our skin
like somehow those words we loved
and blindly chose will become more true,
that somehow the mere etching of our
flesh makes us become those things.
yet somehow I still struggle to love
i lack the faith of mustard seed
and at the sinking of each sun i still lose a little hope.
It may not be my place,
but the questions I find myself asking
seem...
January 2012
27 posts
1 tag
2 tags
1 tag
December 2011
42 posts
