I feel like the middle child sometimes,
Even though I'm an only
But I'm the friend who walks on the grass
Instead of the pavement
I don't have the strength to leave,
I can't even fight my mind
I feel stuck up in time
I'm like a refugee and my camp is my mobile
Im hurting my eyes
My brain's not mine
And Writing something positive feels like a crime
I'm not even worth a dime
This isn't my time
Oh what I'd give to leave and make my life mine
I feel like it's being controlled by external forces
And with each passing day the possibility is more so
I don't show my people what I write
Because how will I tell them that they want to make me leave something that should be mine..
-S.
YOU ARE READING
Glimpses Of Lil' Old Me
PoetryThis is a collection of my songs and poems that I've written in between class, when i was bored, or at 3 am. They mean a lot to me, so I'm sharing these. If someone wants to use this, then i need credits. That being said, if you relate to one of the...
