Trying to fix me seemed impossible.
To fix something,
you need to know how it once was.
As I looked at all the pieces,
Pieces that were supposed to make up me,
They seemed like a puzzle
With no clear picture.
Those pieces of me,
Were not my pieces of me.
They were the pieces you took
And the pieces you changed,
To mold your perfect picture.
It was actually broken
When it seemed complete.
Deceiving everyone.
Including me.
VOUS LISEZ
how I feel
PoésieThis is a book containing the random poetry, or attempted poetry I have tried to write over the years. I don't even know if it's good, considering it is so wildly different from what I normally write, but I figured putting it out there cannot hurt. ...
