Poetry From A Broken Mind

Knowing Me

You never knew me
No matter how long you've been around me;
You think you know who I am
No one, not even you, knows that I am not free.

You say that you
Can read me like a book;
But the only one who can read
People that easily is me by taking just one look.

You sling insults at me
As if you're a cowboy
Trying to get a hit,
But you're not getting your joy.

Don't think I haven't heard
All those things before,
Haven't spent countless nights
Weeping into pillows, all over a bedroom floor.

Others told me that
When it was original;
But now when you say it
It's more like a signal.

A signal to finally
Roast your sorry ass
Not giving you permission to run
Or even a hall pass.

You want to call me
The mistake that God made,
But you don't look in the mirror
And see flaws hidden under your makeup shade.

You cake on the makeup
As if that means anything;
And then you go out
Ready for a one night fling.

While I'm here
Fresh-face and free
Not needing to worry
About who's after me.

I would stop and let you rest,
But I'm not even halfway done;
You need to learn something,
And, for you, it won't be fun.

I'm roasting your ass
So damn hard it hurts
People might as well put it on
Their freakin' polo shirts.

Y'all want to put all kinds of stupid things
On shirts anyway;
Why not put something on one like
'Got my ass handed to me by this chick today!'

Have my pic at the
Bottom of the shirt
To show the girl who got so much
She dealt out the hurt.

And I'll just be here
With my boyfriend, playing with my hair
Watching bitches like you play this game
While Death needs someone to fill her chair.