I haven't even been writing poetry for a year, so this is truly my weakest point in writing. I'm a whiz at essays, reports, realistic and historical fiction. So please, keep this in mind.
I was in my hiding place,
In a world where my dignity lie;
Trampled over and forgotten.
Where the hardest part of all,
Was watching it go.
Falling—fading into another world—
I saw it leaving.
Parting me with an arrogance, I will fail to forget.
