Jun 14
I take things to heart,
And beat myself up.
Your bully fires spit balls,
And whispers behind your hair.
Mine pummels me to sleep.
Smashes my face into the gutter
and makes me look at the watery reflection in my blood.
Flings insults inside my skull
Until my under eyes go purple.
She hates me for me,
And I don't really know what I did to make her so spiteful.
To make her the monster she is.
But I can't remember a time before her.
She is the only companions I can rely on.
Even for the wrong reasons.
Her presence, her punishments,
Penitence for my crimes.
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Poetry For The Lost People
Poésie365 observations and comments about society, life and love throughout 2022. Come with me on my journey day by day, as I write what I've always wanted to say. There is no method or planning, just thoughts and perceptions about the way of the world. A...
