I am a poetry girl:
my eyes shed red longing, petals fall from roses
only leaving thorns to break through the scarred skin that caresses my hands
the green of trees fill my eyes, asking me about why do i even try
to breathe through the fog

my eyes, my pupils feed on knowledge
feed on literature of the new age and of past masters
who have traveled through the same mind-bending world which path
i have chose to take
the soft trickle of rain become puddles
like girl fades into dust and becomes nothing