Habits
Why is it
I ask myself
I always go back
Infatuated by the quest
Of those who see me
As nothing more
Than a grain of sand
Being hurdled against the shore
By their breaking waves
Taught too young
That this is love
I can’t seem to escape
The habits of a broken girl
Looking to mend
In the those who will only brake her more
Copyright © Rene Carter | Year Posted 2019
|