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Literature Text
White line striking straight through dark plane,
Extending self from old transgression to brighten all;
I know something of it.
It’s the process of peeling an orange,
Only don’t know not supposed to eat the peels,
So I eat them, but process of finding sweet orange fruit inside:
That’s like reverence.
I am an orange.
These are but the peels.
Extending self from old transgression to brighten all;
I know something of it.
It’s the process of peeling an orange,
Only don’t know not supposed to eat the peels,
So I eat them, but process of finding sweet orange fruit inside:
That’s like reverence.
I am an orange.
These are but the peels.
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i read somewhere people write poetry as a sort of way of finding themselves and who they are and i wrote poems about my poems because i neeed to have a reason to right them since i don't think they're very good and worry they aren't good. when i wrote them i'd show them to my friends and i usually got pretty down by it so i don't write poems. and then there are times when i feel normal and haven't written a poem for monthes, which i haven't.
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Comments1
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Hehe... it's short... but sweet. I like.