The Rusted Playground
Every moment is a challenge; it's a playground, and I'm done playing
It's damaged, my mess-you're broken, and I
can't hide my mess anymore
Can you wrap around me once again?
I'm turning into a washed out rag, losing
it's balance in the water
I'm still sane.for now
but I don't know for how long, no pressure
There was just no point in telling you
At one point.
but, this bed is an ice block. Feed me with your kiss
I want to feel it from the tip of
my veins are run dry; I can jump rope
with them, crack a whip with them
I wish I could be fluorescent for you to
see right through me now
Then you could see,
rather than you just being a memory. I'm tired of being the
master of falling; I can't dance with two left feet. I know I became
the bad guy, but I want my cape back. Please stop, for me-
I know I started it. The monkey bars are scraping the palms.
I can't live in a dream forever-be my reality again?
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I am a barista by day and a writer/musician/comedian by lifetime. Please don't take it the wrong way, but I don't like to explain my poems. I like to have the reader read one of my poems and let them have their own perspective on it. I got into poetry when I was twenty-two years old, and I haven't stopped since. I see it as a way to escape and scream a little bit. You'll begin to know me well in some ways. But know, I'm thankful! Much love and again, thank you.