My face isn't carved in a mountain. I've never been struck by lightning.
I've never saved a crying baby from a burning house fire nor have I over come my misfortunes in life to acquire a name for myself. I consider myself a writer although all I've written is only pieces of torn limbs of my distraught existence. (a bunch of poems)
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Saturday, November 24, 2018
She is "If it bleeds it leads"
Who she is
Is not
Who
She has pretended to be
To see me
For who I am
And pretending to care
Who says she is
Who she will ever be
At the bottom of the roots
Of her whole family tree...
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