This stuff is pure No ego getting in the way Just my Id letting go And saying anything. The beauty of tired Midnight poetry. Guided by a wandering mind Not boggled down By sensible thought Scenes are playing On the inside of my lids- A prince Straddling a white horse Galloping far, far away. Ficteal childhood memories Long ago, Was the neighbor just being sweet Or luring me into the gingerbread house. This relaxed mind Is letting go Letting you know More than it probably should. Bubbles Running to the top *pop* Plagued with insecurity and unhappiness *pop* I'm inferior to who? *pop* God, how I want to be loved *pop* I'm all alone With this laxed Conscious state I feel it all come running out. In this Tired Midnight PoetryBirth sign: Gemini
You need to log in to edit this poem if it is yours.
View more poems by Nicole M..