I've been known to
write stories
Instead of moving
Like my bending wrist
Knows just what she's
doing
Reality is there
Smothered under a blanket
Of scribbles and drawings
Some hopeful dreams
I think I made this
More than it was
Meant to be
(Writing
about writing
is so cliche)
But I cling to my words
Like I'm dangling
High up off the ground
Holding tight to the edge of
Serif-fonted letters
I always thought you knew me better.
And I've always tried to see the light
but in doing so
I never saw the darkness
For what it was
Jul 22, 2013
Jul 22, 2013 at 2:52 AM UTC
I've been known to
write stories
Instead of moving
Like my bending wrist
Knows just what she's
doing
Reality is there
Smothered under a blanket
Of scribbles and drawings
Some hopeful dreams
I think I made this
More than it was
Meant to be
(Writing
about writing
is so cliche)
But I cling to my words
Like I'm dangling
High up off the ground
Holding tight to the edge of
Serif-fonted letters
I always thought you knew me better.
And I've always tried to see the light
but in doing so
I never saw the darkness
For what it was