Where I Try, To Grow...
I eat the dirt, it taste like dirt
it is not the dirt, i profess it is.
It is not the sun, it is a smile
it helps me realize, it is not.
I smile my broken smile, one
more crack, my face falls off.
The sink, is full, my mask, falls
washed in my tears, i smile.
poem by Is It Poetry
Added by Poetry Lover
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