poems | allegra osati

poem five.

before i was i spun around and around choosing between futures but now i stand afraid of what might become of...

then shines the sun on an endless sea reflecting your perfect madness imperfection seeps into the roots

i thumb through the thesaurus in my thoughts imperfect words terrorize terrify

speak not of the ways i weep let us gallop lest the rains return

a life is the drop of water suspended as rain becomes...