writing comes easy,
cause it's always about this one person that scarred my heart,
day by day,
seems like it gets worse
i don't know what life has in store for me,
but why the fuck am i still here crumbling to pieces over this?
you're probably out driving right now,
deciding which way to take next
i'm here,
at home
just wondering,
if things could have been different
it could have been,
but i was 17,
you were 16
fell for a youngin when i never thought i would
i stalk you at times,
seems like i have competition with my writing now
looks like we both feel the same way,
of how we feel about life and where it has taken us and where it possibly will take us
i miss you
but i know,
i will never have you in the end no matter how many times my thoughts say i will,
love you
YOU ARE READING
secrets i've kept hidden (a poetry story)
Poetryi have secrets, we have secrets, you and i, we were made of glass friends aren't really your friend, family isn't always blood the demon fucking with my head here's my story
