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I May Never Be A Writer

Mind Storm

7/22/2018

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Picture

​I cower, used and empty.
The grit of rejection stinging in my eyes.
I should have lied,
Told you I was innocent, harmless.
Are lies better than the truth?
Only to the weak.
Your harsh words bruised my spirit,
Buried my soul,
Painful as a sandstorm.
Why the necessity 
To discard your only companion?
I told you the truth,
Only to find
Accepting truth was your weakness.

©AM
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    Author

    Well, as the title says, I may never be a writer, but who knows what my brain holds. I'll just let it seep out onto this page now and then. It's a bit of a scary thought.

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  • Art Of Ordinary
  • Zinanigans- Photos by Zinny
  • Just Some Random Stuff
  • Praisefully Yours
  • I May Never Be A Writer
  • Photo Gallery
  • About