Wild

I don’t have time for tears anymore-

Happiness has become my clock’s battery,

my alarm to wake up

and burn

feel, touch, scream,

cry, bite, love, grow,

scratch past the surface

the mediocre people seem to settle for.

Wild

Sometimes I can be trouble

if I don’t have someone just as wild

to run with.

Categories Creative Writing, PoetryTags , , , , , , , , ,

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