I've read and read and read but still I am ignorant. I've tried to try past my initial effort yet still I yield no progress. Would it be fair of me to quit my own souls search for paradise before I've yet to make any stride towards that goal? I've not grown, so am I not grown? I can't tell. If I proceed with my life could I claim my own mind, or would it belong to someone else? Many of my own writings are vague yet detailed all the same, so what does that make me? Pretentious? Pious? Disillusioned? Disturbed? Truthful? Or an Egoist? Many answers, many right, many wrong. I don't know myself. I'll leave it up to you.
YOU ARE READING
Lackluster writing...bad writer.
PoesiConfessional poems. These are how I feel about myself and the things around me. These poems mean a lot to me. I may not be a good writer but I wanted at least anonymously to share them.
