It's quieter than my conscience.
The world's volume was decreased
The world's impact has deceased
The world's people are not pleased.
It's quieter than my responsiveness.
I realize the truth, but it's already too late.
When will they learn that I deserve hate?
When will they burst? Do I have to wait?
When will they cry? What is the date?
Or am I wrong?
Is it truly silent or have I turned deaf?Is it truly silent, are no tears left?
Is it truly silent or have I been ignoring
The painfully loud screams out of boredom?
YOU ARE READING
Poems Because I'm bored
PoetryA bunch of short poems written by me. Am I good at writing poems? Not really. Do I care? Not really. I kinda just want a fun way to express myself, y'know? Also, whenever I write 'She', I'm either referring to myself... or a girl that most of these...
