I flew those kites in hurricanes
I won the losing games
I didn't cut corners
I fought for my place
and yet
I'm still punished?
I don't get it
No I have nothing else to give.
But I can say I fought to be here
I made it this far and
Yet I'm the one with weary bones
With ugly scars
With matted hair
With the mental capacity of a brick
YOU ARE READING
The Poors Of The Pity •Mental Health Poetry•
PoesiaThis ones is filled with poems that I had created when I was going through a rough patch. Its shows you that it doesn't last forever though it might feel like it. I was going through a lot in multiple scenarios and I just wanted to show you if you w...