If I could tattoo my poetry to my skin, I would
I would show them my word-riddled wrists
Where the scars used to be
And the prosaic verses sprawled on my neck
Where I planned to loop the rope
If my poems were good, I would tattoo them on my skin
Sadly, all I have are a sophomoric amalgamates of odd words
That make dead poets turn in their graves
Nov 23, 2016
Nov 23, 2016 at 10:21 AM UTC
If I could tattoo my poetry to my skin, I would
I would show them my word-riddled wrists
Where the scars used to be
And the prosaic verses sprawled on my neck
Where I planned to loop the rope
If my poems were good, I would tattoo them on my skin
Sadly, all I have are a sophomoric amalgamates of odd words
That make dead poets turn in their graves
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