To my core
7/19/23
Hollow, empty room.
Shallow as the four walls deep
that watch over me while I sleep.
Dreams rushing in like a fleet,
I can’t unravel my words as I speak
here I am, covering my eyes at the peak,
singing back to the birds for what I seek.
“Meek, weak woman”.
I can’t take it no more.
Leaving me torn like the leaves on Autumn’s floor.
I beg of you, don’t take what is mine,
for I can’t take what is yours.
Leave me be, I will no longer endure
that same feeling I felt yet, before.
Changing in time,
transcending me, galore.
Look at me now,
you don’t have me to adore.
Not waiting for you past midnight by the door or staying up to write about you until four.
All just for you to ignore.
This is what you get for shaking my core.
