It's kinda sad actually. I don't know what to say on here because I have no audience. I'm pretty much talking to myself. But then I fear putting certain things on here because what if someone is reading and I wouldn't want them to know that part of me. Ehhh.... Here's a poem.
I am not Hester Prynne.
My shame is held too deep into my heart,
cradled by capillaries like baby kangaroos.
Just chillin’.
Prynne’s shame is sunburned and overexposed.
On display.
Shame does not equal shameful.
Behind crossed teeth and bright brown eyes,
my sorrow hides from the light.
His face reflects my sadness.
He is jealous.
In His hands; my failure.
He weeps.
When He speaks, I move
Too slowly.
Being homesick for wintertime Alaska,
I’ve grown accustomed to damp pillows
and broken hearts.
No matter where or when I wake up
the Son is in my eyes.
1 comment:
i read your blog sosi!!!!! dont put anything crazy btw nice poem
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