Every action I take.
Is like a stroke of a pen.
Writing my story in permanent ink.
Once it's written.
The story is just the way it is.
Lingering there and unchangeable.
And it doesn't matter.
How much I want to change what happened.
Cause it now unremovable.
Every mess up.
Brings me down.
Words to prove it's true.
The more I try to escape.
The more the doors and windows are closed.
And I am forced to face the reality.
So here I am.
Crouched and trying to hide.
While my story is being written...in permanent ink.
YOU ARE READING
A Poetry Book
PoetryA collection of poetry I, @canpotcat, have written over the past 3 years. Basically somewhat like my diary because every poem I wrote was at the moment about how I was feeling and what happened. And just something to know, a couple of the poetry wri...
