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Poetry

A collection of poems, cover by: @itsmarrosee || I am the fray at the end of the yarn, cut from the new blanket, before it becomes a gift.

NONE OF WHICH LOOK LIKE MIRRORS

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by heyalihey

by heyalihey

I try to jump higher

But I'm stuck to the floor

Oh, how I want to touch the clouds

I would like to think I'm destined for great things

But I stand at sea level

My peers turn into superiors

I look at the models in magazines

None of which look like mirrors

Oh, how I wish they did

Instead I sit alone

And pull upward on the strings attached to the corners of my mouth

And play my supporting role.