You pretend to care,
to love, to understand me;
why can't you just tell the truth?
You say you want to be with me,
to love me, to help me;
all you do is bring me down.
You tell me lies,
about you and I;
are you capable of telling the truth?
Are all people,
including the dead and gone,
the same as you?
As terrible,
cold, and hateful
as you?
Is there a single,
decent, truthful person
around me?
Am I doomed to only know
pain, lies, hate, and acting?
Will you ever stop lying?
The answers are opposites,
I think,
Yes to the first,
and No to the last.
And so it shall be.........
YOU ARE READING
Broken Inside and Out
PoetryJust to be clear, this is poetry, not a story. I'm sorry if you don't like that stuff, but it's what I am writing lately. I will be writing another "story" that's more like a diary. Thanks for reading! Bye! :D -Julliette Dawn
