The first writings of a cramped hand
Poems that decipher the feelings of my daily journal
The first writings of a cramped hand,
Heavy is the mind, thoughts as countless as sand
No direction, No aim
Only the heart and mind to blame
Speaking of the heart, Two desires pull it apart
A desire for stability and loyalty, Another for fantasy and novelty
A name lingers; A want laid bare
But what would become if desires were shared?
Writing and poetry an old outlet to explore
A skill once easy, now difficult, ready to create once more
About the Creator
Moose
A safe place for a brute to find his eloquence. I come in hiding and will only share this space with those that I absolutely trust. If I invited you here congratulations, you're one of the ones I hold dearest. Thank you for loving me back.
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