Long ago I was a poet with a pursuit
I was everything I couldn’t be,
In poetry.
Today, I am not that anymore
Today, I am one with reality
I am not me,
Ironically.
I don’t talk about the purple sun
Or, about the waves that murmur secrets to the shore
I can’t stick to the seventeen syllable Haikus anymore
I tried,
I failed,
Horribly.
Long ago I was a poet with a pursuit
Turns out I couldn’t be,
A genius,
In poetry.
Today, I am one with reality
I am not me,
Ironically.
Some girls are made of sugar and spice and all things nice. Others, like me, are red haired, raw, and quite plus sized. Read my work on food and fashion on this blog.
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