What a tragic,
this unhealthy coping mechanism awaits
Fifth-grade-me knew daydreaming was too good to be true,
too good to be just a way to comfort a little while
but i settled without a doubt
Because my parents never learned how
No one picked me up a book
as a bedtime story
titled "how to love properly"
because they never knew how
and I swear to god
I just knew something was wrong
but I couldn't take a grasp of it
just like how a blind man searches for colors
so close but entirely not enough…
I can't blame little miss me
begging for hope
and hoping for survival
that's all she's thought to be
YOU ARE READING
Dazed Off
PoetrySee what the young poet wrote in her old journals at only the age of twelve, and how her mental state progressively gets worse at age fifteen:) Collection of poems mostly about God, family, love, and hate to oneself. • most impressive ranking: #6 in...
