I can't define who I am, but you surely know who you want me to be.
On a rainy day I arrived Born into a white room Dimly lit by the pale moon Couldn't believe I survived. I opened my eyes I took the first steps Memories that you've always kept But every angel dies.
This here's a poem I wrote for Johnny, my favorite character from The Outsiders by S.E. Hinton. This probably won't make a lot of sense if you haven't read the book, so sorry about that.
Your conceptualized flaws Were truthfully nonexistent, But I have to admit; Your eyes always seemed so painfully distant.
I have reluctantly made the decision to write a novel based off the events in a dream I recently had. I doubt if I will post the chapters here, but let me know what you guys think.
They say "You," I say what. They repeat, "yes, You" I say "You who?" So They check my vital signs And say, You are alive.