Emo was a foreign term, once.
That was probably because I still didn't fully understand the dangers of labeling.
Neither did she.
To she her own, I've heard stop many times.
Yet I never had the opportunity to have my own opinion.
Why?
Here goes nothing.
How could you?
Taking responsibilities to be your own because you knew you couldn't do it alone,
The yelling, the screaming,
The tears that were streaming,
It cut off the dreaming that I should have been keeping.
How could you tear me apart...
Year by year...
Until what?
What was your goal?
Did you realize that you were putting me in a black hole?
I doubt you did.
Cause if you had known you'd never have done what you did.
YOU ARE READING
How Could I Let You Do This
RandomThis is a collection of poems about all the things I find myself bothered by over my whole life, the future, and generally speaking about self issues for a lot of people through my POV. One thing that I struggle with most is the word emo. I was tau...
