It's funny, how just now I recognized myself in a poem someone else wrote. Like my words came pouring out of their pen and marked the paper-- just for me. Just so I can nod in agreement and for once in God-knows-how-long remember who I actually am.
It tears me up, everytime my eyes reread the same **** lines. Why does this stranger know me better than I know myself?
Mar 3, 2016
Mar 3, 2016 at 1:20 PM UTC
It's funny, how just now I recognized myself in a poem someone else wrote. Like my words came pouring out of their pen and marked the paper-- just for me. Just so I can nod in agreement and for once in God-knows-how-long remember who I actually am.
It tears me up, everytime my eyes reread the same **** lines. Why does this stranger know me better than I know myself?