To this world you gave light,
and to the world it shown so bright,
except on to you, according to you,
you-your oblivious, pitious self.
How can a sleeve threaded by your hostility
be the same sleeve that bears a heart?
This love, not of star crossed lovers, but
of blood cannot be chosen by request;
perhaps in different parallels we rest
in separate homes gazing at a midnight sky
through windows in which yours reflects
the being I'd have not crossed paths with
had it been my choice; you'd not be my pith.
YOU ARE READING
A Collection of my Poetry
PoetryTLDR I was a very outspoken, creative, extraverted child with many passions and hobbies. As a young adult, now navigating my 20's with anxiety and depression, I know that I am excruciatingly different than my childhoodself for many reasons that wher...
