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confused.
Perfection is the ache in my chest. Beats alongside my heart and keeps the misery company. Failure visits too often. Gives condolences for the loss of self-worth then bids farewell ...
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the sounds of my summer.
The cut up lines are meant to mimic a heart beat. It's four in the morning and I'm waking for my daily dose of failure pills and guilt medicine. Dizzy, ...
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(Revised) confusion.
I posted this poem before, but after reviews by others (andimlovegalore, singing_hope, and VicternoO) I decided to use their comments to revise. Thanks guys! To see the old poem, click ...