May 2018
What happened to my heart
that I now pick every poem apart?
It all feels so manufactured,
words are a glued-together fracture.
I'll be judged at the poetic rapture,
because my heart refuses to capture
the same passion I had at the start.
that I now pick every poem apart?
It all feels so manufactured,
words are a glued-together fracture.
I'll be judged at the poetic rapture,
because my heart refuses to capture
the same passion I had at the start.
© Tatiana
Before I start sharing the poems of my little trip I took with my sister, these words popped into my head and it was best for me to get them out asap.
Before I start sharing the poems of my little trip I took with my sister, these words popped into my head and it was best for me to get them out asap.
