me.

me. 

 

skin and bones

and thoughts and stones

that drag me

 

d

            o

                        w

                                    n

 

as they cling to me,

their claws grasping,

my tongue lapsing,

their weight

rising, rising,

 

d

            o

                        w

                                    n

 

to the depths of surprise

and the caves of demise,

but I try,

and I pry

my fingers                 

 

                                                            away

 

from their locks of

indecision,

 

and I try,

and I pry

my eyes

 

            p

u

 

from their hole of

insecurity

towards the

 

pen.

 

trees and leaves

and flowers and breeze

on my island for

one

where music

 

            l                       a                      s

f                       o                      t

 

through the winds

 

and boats clamber

towards the rocky shores,

but they bash against the waves

that swallow them

with a rush

as the words start

 

m         a          r          c          h          i           n          g

 

across the paper

that is the sand

scurrying, scurrying

in swirls and dips

and peaks and lips

that whisper their story

in

 

s          h                                  e          r

                        i           v                                  i                       g

                                                                                    n

 

lines and curves and dots

that assure me

through fantastic lies

with swirling skies

that I am

 

me.                                                      

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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