Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Feb 2014
Sitting on this rusty balcony
I teeter on the median of self-contempt
and why I latch onto men and women of any kind
so I am the ******* to those who are in the moment
I crave,
yearn for someone better.
I am just a blonde, ribbon-haired child you see
I am not the artist
sitting on a rust balcony
No I'm the child
Not the muse
not the Mother
I am not an author
No I am a child.
Somebody help me, I've lost my muse.
Emerald Proctor
Written by
Emerald Proctor
Please log in to view and add comments on poems