starting a conversation with you is to ignite a cosmic clash
a verbal warhead inside my head
makes me regret you
and makes you regret me
why do i even try when i know it's a losing game?
head pounding in frustration, heart in dread
as i drown in this conversation wishing i were dead
the unintelligible thing is,
how you still expect me to smile and nod and feign enjoyment in the misery of your company
i don't know how you prefer me
opinionated and intimidating or quiet and submissive
i tried both but they seem to fare a reaction alike
of a rage so violent, i feared it might burn me alive
maybe being born was the only thing i didn't get right
YOU ARE READING
secrets from the lair
Poezjaan anthology of bad poetry, but who cares [the lowercase letters all throughout are intentional, they're not grammatical errors]
