Broken
BROKEN
I can’t say how it feels,
But surely know where it hurts.
I’m not a twister of fate,
Only drained by the flakes of emotions.
I’m not a twister of words,
But find solace in my ink
Poured on white, dividing my thoughts into:
Sharing its pains and relief.
I’m not a lover of man,
But I do know an immortal
Dressed in flair skin.
Effusion of overflowing wisdom
Expands in my lungs
Out of watery tongue
At a trivia sight
I’m really not a twister of words,
But twisting is my favorite way
Of which my cognition is told.
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