Welcome to my Life!



  • My heart is a mess. A beautiful mess. Perfectly Ruined. Splendidly destroyed.
    And now you're a just a stranger with all my secrets.
    Sometimes, I'm the mess.
    Sometimes, I'm the broom.
    On the hardest days, I have to be both.

    She has a bookshelf for a heart,
    and ink runs through her veins,
    She'll write you into her story,
    With the typewriter in her brain,
    Her bookshelf's getting crowded,
    With all the stories that she's penned,
    Of the people who flicked through her pages,
    But close the book before the bed,
    And there's one pushed to very back,
    That' still collecting dust,
    With its title in her finest writing,
    "The One's Who Lost My Trust",
    There's books she's scared to open,
    And books she doesn't close,
    Stories of every person she's met,
    Stretched out in endless rows,
    Some people have only a sentence,
    While other once held a main part
    Thousands of inky footprints,
    That they've left across her heart,
    You might wonder why she does this,
    Why write of people she once knew?
    But she hopes one day she'll mean enough,
    For someone to write about her too.


  • Soul Searchers

    @hales17 said in Welcome to my Life!:

    My heart is a mess. A beautiful mess. Perfectly Ruined. Splendidly destroyed.
    And now you're a just a stranger with all my secrets.
    Sometimes, I'm the mess.
    Sometimes, I'm the broom.
    On the hardest days, I have to be both.

    She has a bookshelf for a heart,
    and ink runs through her veins,
    She'll write you into her story,
    With the typewriter in her brain,
    Her bookshelf's getting crowded,
    With all the stories that she's penned,
    Of the people who flicked through her pages,
    But close the book before the bed,
    And there's one pushed to very back,
    That' still collecting dust,
    With its title in her finest writing,
    "The One's Who Lost My Trust",
    There's books she's scared to open,
    And books she doesn't close,
    Stories of every person she's met,
    Stretched out in endless rows,
    Some people have only a sentence,
    While other once held a main part
    Thousands of inky footprints,
    That they've left across her heart,
    You might wonder why she does this,
    Why write of people she once knew?
    But she hopes one day she'll mean enough,
    For someone to write about her too.

    nice poem but i dont like it



  • @hales17 that hit so close to home, I would tat it on my back, damn.



  • @cjko Which book, and where to find more people like yall, this stuff is wonderful



  • Forreal I need to read all of that stuff, lotta love and respect for @Hales17



  • @casualboy I don't knw you.. I'm sorry.



  • That book is worth to read. For readers will learn a lot of lessons in each chapter of it.. 🙂

    P.S. Life is like a library tho;we are the books with different content placed on the dusty old shelves..



  • @robinnotthehood hi!hmmm her book.. her life. 🙂

    yeah it is.... I'm just here roaming around. ehehe



  • @hales17 🙂



  • @cjko Do I know you? Meow I think 😕



  • @cjko OK. I was going to my post. Thanks for your information. 🙂








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