Here's a poem till I find more anecdotes to write about/draw inspiration from. I call it, 'Worthy.' It's cliched, I guess, but I don't do poetry and it is most definitely not my thing. So please do not judge with too harsh an eye.
Worthy
We choose to cover ourselves in things
Flowers and scars and pain and paint
When time and time again
We seem to forget
A sum that is greater than all of its parts.
I have a friend who thinks she isn’t worth her mother’s love
And another friend who thinks her lover will never love her
back
Why is love so glorified all the time?
It isn’t, it is not.
You are what you love, and not who loves you.
I choose to cover myself in words
And yet, I’m covered in flowers and scars and pain and paint
Just like everyone else
Till next time, sons and daughters of Earth.
I love it! Keep writing more poems
ReplyDeleteThank you Ghadeer! :D It really means a lot when you read my posts and comment on them :) I shall definitely try to keep up my writing.
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