Truth be told,
My heart is a pencil,
You, my perfect, fake, boy that I traced out of magazine covers, flawless.
Thoughts of unity and happiness danced around in my head,
But I was all wrong.
YOU ARE READING
Ethereal - poems
PoetryThese are my thoughts. To myself and others. They are the things I wish I could yell. Scream even. But I feel I should put the thoughts to rest in the pixels of a page. Rest In Peace.
