Where did my personality go?
All I am is a bit of everyone,
Everything,
And all their opinions.
Why must I morph myself,
Into someone I'm not.
I'm wet clay,
Waiting to be molded,
Into someone else,
To make them like me.
I'm not my own person,
Why do people hangout with me?
Oh that's right,
Because I mold myself,
To fit their personality,
And hide my own deep down.
YOU ARE READING
My Poetry
PoetryMost of this is sad, any TW will be at the start of them I'm a 17 y/o just wanting to share some of my poetry with people other than my friends :] (Also feel free to comment any tips and how I could improve on my writing!)
