My room is messy
Like the tatters of me
Memories,
Pains of the past
Hope of the future
The so very insecure present
I'd put them in their place
But I have no such time
So busy, with my comings & goings
Living
And gathering more pieces
For my grounded,
Morbid collection
Will I ever have time to clean it up?
Or will it grow and grow
And grow...
Until it swallows me whole?
About Me
- ♥Jordin
- My name is Jordin and I'm not like most. I write because I want to write. I'm not a poet or a novelist. I tend to either write about experiences I've had, or mostly conceptual things. Death and love are two of my favorite concepts to illustrate. I appreciate criticism, and I love to hear people's opinions. So please, feel free to share whatever is on your heart or mind when you read my work. :]
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