I am a writer.
A creator of universes.
My darkest thoughts worm their way onto my screen.
My hopes, my dreams, my midnight fragments.
With a few taps, I can create a human being.
I can dream of a heaven for him.
Why, then, do I create hells?
Why do I make broken people?
Wretched, torn places where nothing beautiful stays.
Sad, vengeful warriors, never finding peace.
Why do I never permit happy endings?
Why are my creations never whole?
My stories are a mirror to my soul.
I cannot see my reflection.
Is the mirror broken?
Or am I refusing to see?
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Sorry this is so short. As always, votes and comments are welcome. ~ Maria Hope
YOU ARE READING
The Dump
PoetryA place for all the random stanzas that flow through my mind. My life in free verse. I try to write at least one poem a week, so they will be added as they're finished. In the meantime, PLEASE comment. Praise is nice, but constructive criticism help...
