spit, mixed with dirt – muddy words flow
You, me — or whoever else
Could pour their hearts out on paper,
Tears trickling, dripping, merging with the ink —
Mixing, forming depictions closely resembling,
An impromptu Rorschach test.
And when we think we’ve said all we can
With no inhibitions. We look around us and see
That no one cares —
Hell, no one even noticed.
And you know what ….
There’s something morbidly hilarious about that.
– O.D. ©2020
We Survived and Arrived - Now as Warriors We Thrive
Writer and Artist
a collection of short poetry from an autistic mind
Poetry, Photography, and Thoughts
The Lies in the Skies Exposed
"When I am writing, I am trying to find out who I am..." --Maya Angelou
Welcome to my tiny corner of the universe filled with poems that I have written.
Author | Freelance Writer | Blogger
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