art
Poetry and art go hand in hand; in fact, a poem is just art in the written form.
Weight
The weight of all my sins have bore down upon me, building upon my back and I’ve been bending. For months, for years, I have bent. Springing back came so easy, I thought I was fine. I swore I was fine. I convinced myself I was fine. I promised I was fine. I was not fine.
By Jake Trammell3 years ago in Poets
Pathetic
Pathetic. I’m pathetic. I am. You call me a liar, but I didn’t lie. You say I love it, the drama. Maybe. Maybe I like the feeling of having all eyes on me, because it’s the one way to get all eyes on me. I’m fun and give people attention, your words. I’m fun. And everyone wants someone fun. That’s everyone’s words, whether they say them aloud or not. Why would you want someone sad who feels pain and has insecurities. Why would you want someone who talks about these things.
By Andrew Dominguez3 years ago in Poets
