i am a being of skin and bone
and i am a writer of allegorical words.
i don't remember how i got into poetry,
but maybe it's better that way. i know
i was young, so that means i was stupid.
everything i write is fake, but this is for sure words!
i am only a writer if i can write something enigmatic.
i forgot what that word meant a long time ago,
so that means i've lost my purpose.
i guess that's what happens when you can't handle
the fact that you are now an adult with a real adult life;
you grow out of the things you love and you forget
where you came from. i am a product of my
surroundings. i am alone as always.
i am completely out of ideas.
i am trying to make this worthwhile.