My poetry is messy. My grammar is lacking. My vocabulary is sometimes too constricted-even for me.
But...
My heart said these words without grammar, deep vocabulary, or proper meter. My heart doesn't know your rules. My heart hurts and shakes and bleeds without a second thought about wether it's bleeding correctly. My condemned chest cavity beats restlessly without a moment dedicated to contemplating wether it's socially acceptable for it to beat thus. A rebel.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
YOU ARE READING
Muse
PoetryHere is the life my hands have built. Here is the measure of pain and guilt That constructed a life for me and mine Through fingers, palm, and wrist.
