She's the only reason I'm here.
Next week she'll be on her 18th year.
She's not a child anymore.
She's finally made good friends.
It doesn't matter what message it sends.
She doesn't need me anymore.
I keep telling myself to wait,
But maybe my death is fate.
I have no reason to stay anymore.
YOU ARE READING
Poems of a Neurotic Insomniac
PoetryLet's see how this goes. It's time for this sleep-deprived, emotionally-unstable creature to write some shit down.
