I borrowed my words,
I won’t lie or pretend.
I learned all of them.
None were mine.
All were stolen.
And each was taken,
From/by someone.

Yet, I feel like they are my own.
Only mine.
With how they understand,
The rough road in my head.
The scars of my soul.
And the broken cracks of my heart.
So, whenever they are scribbled,
Every time they are crafted,
I feel more and more entangled
With my borrowed, yet my own words.