Blogging · Fiction · poetry · Thoughts

Dry…

 

Dry, empty

and flawed…

feeling always

like a fraud.

Too much love

to give, too few

hands held out,

to receive it,

Too many dreams

sketched on beaches

of sandy doubts.

***

Dry, empty

and flawed…

Feeling always 

like a fraud.

Wanting words

to be immortal,

yet feeling as 

they fade, terribly

ethereal… Terribly

fragile, like my heart

bigger than life still

not up to the task.

***

Dry, empty 

and flawed…

Always feeling

like a fraud.

Trying so hard

but trying still

Trying my best,

tough it might

kill me in the end.

In the end.

***

Dry, empty

and flawed…

Far less a princess,

than a toad.

 

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