Stoic faces, each face different,
each set of eyes
telling a different story
caught between two energies
each side tells a different story
where they meet, a lot is gathered
the degree of togetherness is
different every inch of the way
remnants of the past, etch deep scars
some smooth, others are jagged from
constant ups and downs. ragged,
chipped. and. splintered.
I like it.
someone wrote me a poem once
said I was a poem..
this might be me
if I was a poem
Not meant to make sense
There will always be a way. If you persist and be creative without giving up, you will find solutions that you had not considered before.Perfect Liberty 2020.28.