My beloved sister, I'm sorry that as a child I pushed you off the stairs. You fell like a stone onto a cement river. Though in luck you landed agile like a once broken cat. I apologize for burning this fear into your eyes, the fear that I will hurt you makes me want to die...
I apologize, to all who could hear my shouts, though to my deaf mother my complaints fell silent like paint splattered around trying to become a master piece. Mother I'm sorry that I would make a scene in the store, gathering the judgmental eyes of others to stare in hate, that called aloud "Stupid" in words you could hear, I'm sorry that I made you cry and that instead of saying sorry I would ignore you. Now I see that you are a flower with pollen as sweet as drowning in dreams, you open to the sun but it shuts you out like the frozen moon.
To the educators, I know your job is hard and that my ignorance was a large defect to my work. I'm sorry, although we both know thats' a lie and that I did so constantly. Sorry that I caused abnormally violent scenes and laughed together with my victims later, and that I never listened because schools were stupid and a waste of time. I didn't realize that I and other students are "Americas" future, and that you expected use to waste our whole lives working like you, working ourselves into dept.
Fifth grade boy, I'm sorry that you bothered me and my friends, and that I had to resort to violence. And that you somehow scared me by telling the teacher, also sorry you got a gushing nose in the end.
My "friends" sorry that I don't trust you and hate ninety percent of you, I'm sorry that we disagreed and that you would spreed you lies about me like webs in hopes someone would get stuck and believe you. Sorry that your still around shitting your bull crap into my ears thinking that I care, but I have scars because of you. Emotionally, mentally, physically. You make me hate, and be hated..
Love? I'm sorry to anyone I have loved, I see now that I am disgusting, clay mashed together not to make beauty but pain, that a giant roman glob jolts from my face like a beak taking up ninety-nine percent of my face, with large cracked lips like crevassed deserts. A lumpy body and smalled breasts, with a fucked up mind screaming out silent peeps for help.
YOU ARE READING
Kill Me
PoetryThis is another poetry book, but is more based off all the mistakes I have done and not random stuff that constantly flows through my head, some of the poems (I guess they're poems) are also swirled and twisted ways I view the world.
