The anger boils in my stomach,
The sorrow spills from my eyes;
This world does not want me,
Not even the baby blue skies.
My anger is controlled,
I know what I say;
But more my concern is
What I don't that day.
No one hears me,
The distress I am in;
The agony I so want to speak,
But feel to speak it would be a sin.
So I keep it all inside,
Until I no longer can;
They come out in torrents of tears,
Or are a full force blast from a fan.
Quiet, alone,
A mistake manifested;
My anger seeps away,
But my sorrow's always cresting.
The people I decided to like,
The ones who I thought liked me;
Were just pretending and don't,
And leave me drowning in this sea.
No one thinks of me
As being human too;
They just think of me
As a chore they don't want to do.
The sorrow in my eyes,
My words unspoken,
The distress I feel,
They feel as an achievement token.
So, until I can take
Absolutely no more,
I'll have to stay
On this broken, weeping shore.
I see that you don't want to know
What I have to say;
Well too bad because I have to speak
These words not spoken.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry From A Broken Mind
RandomThis is the fragmented crap spewing from an overly creative mind. My muddled past and pain will show through...the words I could never say out loud. I apologize if you ever don't like a poem, but it is a part of me and I don't try to make the comfor...
