Poems

Abstractically.

The long, the short

The grammar errors and mistakes

The unrhyming verses

And long pages of pure love.

Everything around me has changed

For better or worse I'm no longer attached

I admitted it and I'll say it again

My canvas is set and will not be changed,

My poems remain the same

Un-poem like. But devoted.

I write day and night

For the pleasure of being thrilled.

Of all those who began with me

Only I remain persistent and consistent

They've all moved on

But just, to this one thing I remain attached.

My canvas is set, and shall not be moved

But that doesn't mean, I can't paint

At the same time

Pictures, two.

I will go on, with a new painting

And a new mindset

And I will prove that I am worthy.

Of everything I've earned.

So don't ask what I plan to be

Instead ask what I plan to do

For I have stories and books that yearn to be read

And a vocabulary so extense I look manic

My voice is stern, and struck in habit.

I shift continously and constantly

But I remain the same girl.

I remain the same that loved stupidly.

I remain the same that is beggining to love

I remain the same that in between verses is not coherent

The one that forgets what she was saying.

I remain the one with the ongoing stand.

Poems need not to rhyme, but to be felt.

I remain the one in silly applications and websites.

I remain the girl who keeps using her time to write.

I remain weird, odd and just essentially ethically wrong.

I remain myself.

I remain a writer.

An abstract one, at that.