I will let it fall to the ground, These broken pieces won’t scare me anymore. There is a story to be told, I won’t be afraid to let it unfold. These dark halls, these crumbling walls, Maybe they won’t fall to the ground at all.
I’d rather you look at me— Because the way you see me, You think I’m some type of second best.
I totally cannot fault you, There’re days I can’t help me too. When I stand in the mirror, I’m tempted to go with the rest— Maybe this cloth has a patch after all.
Hello. My name is Isaac. A Journalist and Literary Blogger living in Ghana. This is my blog where I publish my feature articles, creative writing and links to my podcasts. Subscribe today and receive all updates!