My metaphors are hollow.
Flick them and they make a sound.
Puncture them through two sides and look through the holes.
You can see right through them.
Words can be idea’s wings, but sometimes I wonder if my ideas deserve to fly.
I am ordinary, undoubtedly ordinary.
I do ordinary things and have ordinary thoughts.
I wish for no more harm to come into my life.
Yet I want to express things beautifully, but how am I to do that if there is nothing to say?
Without meaning words are only sound.
Without substance poetry is only words without meaning.


© katiewrites