Poetry = Fancy Crap“You’re such a talented writer,” they say.Poetry = Fancy Crap by ~xTintedlullabyx
“Your words have meaning,” they believe.
“You bare your soul,” they claim.
“Liar,” I say.
No, no, not you, of course. I’m the liar. Why? Because words aren’t naked, they’re masked by the pixels of your computer screen, of mine. They sleep beneath the ink, buried deep into the paper, hiding behind weird curves old people made up a really long time ago.
I hide behind the pages as much as you hide behind your smile.
“Ihaveaneatingdisorder,” the words stumble through my lips.
“Isortofkindofcut,” I rush,