I’m sharpening my skills I haven’t yet executed; I’m becoming stronger and no longer feeling persecuted. walking in my shoes has taken a tole; running, jumping, NEVER walking, I’m always ruining my soles.
benefiting from hurt is a serious level of reaping; stay close, I haven’t went left, but I tend to be right when I’m speaking…
those that show consistency, only do when it profits selfish satisfactions; my mind is what truly represents my benefaction; yet, I’m made to always feel as if I’m nothing more than a small diffraction.
love me, not my flesh; cherish my spirit, without distress, allow ourselves to genuinely mesh. I will not beg for understanding and intimacy to be vested; never again will I allow my heart to feel detested…
Europa's Space Of Poetry 
Leave a Reply