Sensitive people discard the earth

Poem about something personal

Sensitive People Discard The Earth
Making it ripe with their tears
Because they cannot see past the dirt.
Some things I think about for a long time
Knowing that they can never be mine.
And thoughts come past
Like air whispering through a mast.
Making me believe,
That I am not the one to fulfil something that lasts.
For it is the dirt that I see
And my tears run,
Turning it to mud
Making me unable to believe.