Sad Labels:
dark poetry
,
frailties
,
introspect
,
manic
,
sad poems
,
sad poetry
,
ugly
perhaps i am. or have always been. an habitual contrarian.
whispering much too loudly into an empty room.
a stilted beggar in weighted robes.
spoiled by time's wicked measurements.
a timid shadow lost in the breadth of the sun.
perhaps we were. or still are. more than we were.
knotted smiles pressed against shattered windows.
stuttering fingers unable to feel anything they touch.
perhaps we might know. or always have.
the shallow breath of temporary euphoria.
a fist made of ashes.
knocking too softly on closed doors.
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