deepundergroundpoetry.com
Wick To A Flame
Torn up town,
everyone is
the same but me,
ripped up jeans
dangling earrings
brushing against
my naked neck
Tattoos playing
peek a boo when
I move just right
I must be interesting
to look at, they all stare,
I'm not like them
At times I'm a blank
page, having no marks
to show, nobody to
read me, like a wick to
a flame I burn alone
everyone is
the same but me,
ripped up jeans
dangling earrings
brushing against
my naked neck
Tattoos playing
peek a boo when
I move just right
I must be interesting
to look at, they all stare,
I'm not like them
At times I'm a blank
page, having no marks
to show, nobody to
read me, like a wick to
a flame I burn alone
Published 27th Dec 2013
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likes 3
reading list entries 0
comments 8
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The author encourages honest critique.
27th Dec 2013 2:11pm
Sometimes it's the only way to burn Tommie girl. Burn bright and smile doll. XO
27th Dec 2013 2:14pm
Anonymous
27th Dec 2013 2:31pm
<< post removed >>
27th Dec 2013 2:46pm
Anonymous
27th Dec 2013 3:27pm
lonely~~~~~ness itza a killa' poit rM
27th Dec 2013 3:52pm
27th Dec 2013 5:49pm
Well done Tommie! I can picture you driving around your town just observing, documentary style...while you recite this poem.
27th Dec 2013 6:00pm
In short, 97% of the people that live in my town are 97 years old..lol...I love 'em, but where's the excitement? Not at the local diner I can tell ya that, Ha Ha...thanks for reading GW.
