The words of me...
My mind is blank, and I keep thinking *what are the words of me?
Some here has called me beautiful, worthy, expressive
But I feel ugly, unworthy, miserable, and meek
What are the words of me?
I'm silent on the outside, silently loud on the inside
Always am I sad, my soul cries and lets out silent screams
What are the words of me?
I find it a mystery.
Why am I a mystery of myself?
Am I still figuring the paradox that is me?
I think so
It's like
I'm still learning my soul and the hieroglyphics that is my heart
Both are foreign to me
Something I've barley discovered
What are the words of me?
I'm still confused, like I never really knew, or maybe have yet to discover it
What are the words of me?
Well here it is.
The words of me are the foreign language of my heart and soul
Each and every poem I wrote and will write explains the words of me
Little by little
My poems are the words of me and more
Those are the words of me
And they're worth a billion and more pictures
They say a picture is worth a thousand words.
And someone asked me what the words of me were. P@ul asked me. Which inspired this poem.
Hope you like it!!!!♥♥♥♥❇❇❇❇♥♥❇❇♥❇