Boy you ain't got a capacity to stand near her,
To know her, ye must know the dorm,
Dorm full of mad people,
Screaming inside her head,
Knocking her down with every nightmare,
Weighing with every footsteps,
Killing with all sorts of headaches.
Boy you ain't got the persona to like her,
Ye like the submissives,
To the society's opinion of her, she's dismissive,
She likes to stand strong,
Through the garden of rose thorns,
Ye like someone who could provide you best of benefits from perfection,
And she's a bucket full of imperfections.
Boy you ain't gonna held her right,
She's walking with miseries with her head tight,
Head high, proud sparkle, confident yet doomed,
She's like the daydream waking in her nightgown of terrors,
She's like the mirrorball trying harder to go through these patterns,
You've got to love her,
To know her,
To know the fandoms of loyalty and acceptance,
That ye said ain't gotta be your job.
YOU ARE READING
The Mad People's Dorm
Poetry"Mad People's Dorm" is a heartfelt collection of poetry that takes you deep into the emotions and thoughts of someone battling anxiety, betrayal, and inner turmoil. Each poem is a window into a mind that has faced darkness and is striving to find li...
