September 19, 2016.
“Forget about her.”
“She’s bad news.”
“You better get used to being hurt.”
“She plays games, and you’ll lose.”
And though I know they speak the truth,
I won’t let it be a bother.
They ask why I think I’d be any different from the rest.
Well, I’m a sword swallower.
I repress the gag reflex, so the butterflies don’t come out.
I flip back my epiglottis in my throat.
I nudge my heart to the left, so it doesn’t break.
It really just involves hope.
And though my heart sometimes is still affected.
I know that it’s worth the pain.
I’ll continue my craft until I perfect it.
Because nothing else makes me feel the same way.
Poetry by aidan haskel
Read 124 times
Written on 2018-12-23 at 19:10
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