I remember my first time writing on here
I was nervous, scared and a tad naive
This is my stomping ground
My battling
My push to give my everything
The constant vibrant words being heard
Now a poet grave yard, deserted
I miss my poetry home
The loud boisterous words constantly being thrown
I came back
It's my dysfunctional love, all I can say to that
I feel Sentimental, never wanting to leave
There should be no reminiscing about poetfreak
Although, we stand here grieving