im sick of feeling drained
your presence throws me
into such dissension for
debating on whether you
you love me or not, in the
truest manner you could.
you say you put a roof
above my head but do
you not see me standing
in the pouring rain, still
consumed in the fire that
you built and fed inside me.
you say that you love me,
but dad, why am i still so
fucked up for snorting
stars just so i couldn't feel
your hands around my throat.
you said so, papa.
YOU ARE READING
Roses In The Sun
PoesiaA book dedicated to the thoughts that lie beneath the surface of all that I am, all that I will be, and all that I hope to become. A book dedicated to the outcasts, to those who've felt invisible, to those who want to read and fall in love with the...
