To Roam Unguided
If I am me, and no more than that what is anything to me?
No right, no path to led me on?
A past that all, but disappears in my sleepy wake?
Winding twists, bear down empty roads?
No mirrors, only eyes to reflect my truths?
If I am me, and no more than that what is nothing to me?
No wrong, no misjudged steps to take?
A future of near darkness, that entreats my fuzzy mind?
Hollow limbs, creak above cluttered streets?
No stars, only dolls to emulate as gods?
Something wrong with this poem?
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Lady D
im 19. im a girl. im silly. im weird. i dont know if what i write is poetry, but i write it all the same... thats really all there is to me.
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