Tumultuous Thursday

This is me

I’m short, sometimes loud

Sometimes I feel shame,sometimes I stand proud

I have made many mistakes

Perhaps more than a few

I except , this is me

Can you except you

Poems on Sunday

Trapped

The relationship was over

If only in her head

Today she would move forward

No need to beg

For forgiveness or beg to stay

It was the time to leave

Run fast and far away

But with only a dream and no map

She would probably be running forever, right now she felt trapped