I look at the sun
and I'm jealous.
How can something be this bright,
and still suffer the same cycle,
over and over again.
"I would have exploded in a second,"
I thought.
But then I realized.
The sun is bright,
but it's exploding,
over and over again.
YOU ARE READING
THINKING ABOUT ME AT 3 A.M.
Poesíathese poems weren't written to be published. they are really personal and autobiographical, but I wrote them to find some kind of comfort. I thought that maybe I'm not the only one, searching for someone to understand me. So, if you do... I'm sorry...
