i have to ask
what does it matter
if it's sleep affecting me
or your impatient, snarky ass
making me feel like shit
making the day a chore without music
to have no idea what you're doing
but of course
you're just being you
you're just this bad
and if you talk to me once more,
i swear to god id start trying to knock you out.
once, it happens that i don't hear you
or maybe i didn't care enough to hear you
and you try and embark on a journey
an expansion of your previous thoughts
"communication is key"
"if you have one ear plugged up, it's affecting your communication"
you should be fucking shot and then be told "grow thicker skin"
YOU ARE READING
I'll Be Fine (pt. 2 of 2)
Poetrypoetry showing my stress. relieving, coping, really. continuing to add poems, sometimes daily. use this as place to talk about your own frustrations and dances with pain and strife
