Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Apr 2018
It's a book of letters to myself
To remember my loss,
My grief and heartache.

It's a counseling mechanism
To maneuver easily between periods of time,
Lonely increments and shallow waters.

It's a group of papers and inked pen
To imprint and scar a white destitute,
An empty canvas, an unwritten book.

It's the company of three dimensional personalities
To converse and decipher identity,
Purpose, spirituality, and direction.

It's a rhythmic set of words
To convey my need for self-actualization,
Importance of thought and a barrage of unspoken ideas.
christiane
Written by
christiane  19/F
(19/F)   
176
   arizona and Wordmancer
Please log in to view and add comments on poems