Feast

I am not a feast for the eyes to devour

I am a body with a mind that thinks and a soul that speaks 

with a mouth that sings

songs of an internal grief and an external peace 

with hands that give 

goodness to all they meet

with feet that dance

over the moon and back

with eyes that can bear

deep inside your soul to ignite a spark of fire and ice,

for I am not a feast, but a body 

with a mind that thinks and a heart that beats,

I am, I am, I am

This poem is about: 
Me

Comments

vintagesoul98

Sorry about the previous blank space for the poem. I had some trouble figuring out how to post the poem into the site.

 

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741