I'm so tired of explaining.
Putting my feelings out there, writing poetry and stories.
Paragraphs,
that become essays.
Words,
turn to speeches.
only for it to roll into an edge and fall,
breaking into pieces silently with a failed, petty attempt to be understood.
but all people get from all of my raw words that come within me is just "wow, thats a lot of words."
but never wondered why it became into a never ending flow of words.
the amount i go through to finally break,
vomit letters out my mouth.
I use these words because i envy those that can cry,
those that can break holes into paper walls.
the ones that can twirl in pure happiness,
with actual human emotions coming from within them.
because i cant.
therefore spilling words are my only form of expressing anything.
YOU ARE READING
crappy poems
Poetrypoems or vents idfc its just my feelings (some of them). Fuck around and you might be featured
