Pretty proper people with their perfect pristine life's.
Possess pretty purple shoes and tell their petty lies.
Pretty proper people play with our politics.
And forget the times when they would pound our heads with bricks.
Pretty proper people prance across their polished floors
Insisting that my pitied life is full of open doors
These pretty proper people still need to try
To perfect the broken pieces and even though night is nigh
Pretty proper people push me into a mold
Persistently praying that with them I won't be cold
Pretty proper people hide their messed up pretty lives
Now I'm pretty proper, and I just sit here and I cry.
Published: 05-02-2016
A/N: woo midnight poetry again.
YOU ARE READING
Growing Pains and Summer Rain
Poesia"we're all just mere beings desperately trying to stay the same in an ever-changing universe." {HIGHEST RANKING: #14 in Poetry and I'm still screaming in joy} Sometimes I curse in these. Don't steal my work.
