Reid@YWP

Dear America, 

There you go again:

Reciting beautiful words 

that no one cares about.

My broken mouth waits impatiently;

Your swift fingers sewed it shut 

I’d like to garden

My own heart,

To pull the weeds of sadness

And hate

From the foundation

I sprout from,

To plant seeds of hope

I Miss The Old You

When we first met

I had no idea

You would become so important to me

But I’m starting to wish

We never met

Now I’m forced to remember you