if you cannot tell yet;
I have poured you out scripts, testimonials, fantasies
- libaries
I question myself at every letter.
For what reason I write,
For one who can’t read.
Who was I to have you inked into my skin,
who was I to ever think it was all right for me - when I was blind.
Who was I to write
when I can no longer spell.
Oct 10, 2018
Oct 10, 2018 at 6:53 PM UTC
if you cannot tell yet;
I have poured you out scripts, testimonials, fantasies
- libaries
I question myself at every letter.
For what reason I write,
For one who can’t read.
Who was I to have you inked into my skin,
who was I to ever think it was all right for me - when I was blind.
Who was I to write
when I can no longer spell.
