Dear World
Im not sure if you’ve noticed
I’m writing shorter pieces in my torn state
I fear soon there’ll be nothing but an ellipsis  
It’s not your fault, world.
It’s the rose bush I’ve been in
Oh World u
My eyes are soaked but my pen runs dry
Papers are storm tossed and torn
Heart hung out to dry
Oh World  
It is true;
Stars shine bright from the darkest corners