Apr 2013
Although my thoughts are scattered,
Bruised, beaten bare,
Clouded, messied, and
Dilluted,
Each one has weight, as they always did.
Filling the room with
Great wonder, and fire burning
Higher than ever before.
Identity is something I have yet to find.
Bruised, beaten bare,
Clouded, messied, and
Dilluted,
Each one has weight, as they always did.
Filling the room with
Great wonder, and fire burning
Higher than ever before.
Identity is something I have yet to find.
April is poetry month, so I'm going to try my best to write a poem every day... and a different kind of poem every day! Today's poem, an ABC Poem.
