I'm a Work in Progress but I'm Getting There
I spent a long, long time choking on
Bridges I should have crossed.
And reading poetry that made me want to
Write something beautiful for myself.
But I never really understood what made something
Or what made something
And I never understood what it was like to have
Or why they weren’t treated like
And I didn’t understand how reading poetry could make you
It was something I could never
But I could feel every
On my oh-so-graffitied skin.
And I guess
I never really understood a lot of things.
What does it mean to have soft eyes?
I always read about them in poems,
But I could never imagine what they were like.
What makes them so
Do you touch them to
Or are they like