My name in this place is Bayla May,
It's an anagram of an old nickname.
But you can just think of me here,
As a lonely poet, who writes the day away
Toying with phrases and metaphors.
She sits late at night, drawing her world with the words she paints.
Not always cruel . . . Yet, not always nice.
She sits at her window and wishes, as she watches the world go by.
She daydreams all night, lost in the worlds she writes.
She's lost trapped by time, as she falls down rabbit holes in her mind.
Sometimes her words seem to align just right.
As her emotions begin to bleed through the pen.
They whisper a soft whistle of her memories back then.
They flow out like the wind.
Getting lost on a breeze, they move beyond the time she spends.
All these thoughts, you'd think she'd might scream.
Yet, she calmly breathes.
But this poets true identity you ask?
Just a late night poet who's . . .
-BM
YOU ARE READING
Late Night Poet - Introducing Bayla May
PoetryIntroducing Bayla May - This is part one, of what will be a few series. What once were a sad loss girl thoughts, now turned into poetry. She stayed up late writing her worries away as she rearranges her pain, she crafts, a New World in each phrase...
