I stand alone now.
That's okay, I think.
People have given up on me.
People have made me quit.
People have insulted me.
They've made me take a hit.
The names I've been called,
Could never compare,
To the pain I will cause them,
For which they cannot bare.
I will make than suffer.
Like me, beyond repair.
People make me laugh.
People make me cry.
Now I'm antisocial.
For that I cannot deny.
I have a phobia of people.
That is not a lie.
I am saddened by this truth.
It rips me up inside.
Despair is my comfort.
Depression is my joy.
Loneliness is my companion.
And solitude is my pride.
YOU ARE READING
Broken
PoetryPoetry is a way of expressing our most dark, twisted, confusing emotions that we feel no one understands. You are not alone in how you feel or what you are going through. These poems are written to help people realize that and feel less alone. WARN...
