Why Me?
Am I really just a machine,
Made for fun,
Now being broken to build another?
Why me?
The others don't deserve it,
I know,
but still,
Why me?
I know I am classified as having the best mechanisms,
But still,
Why me?
Do I deserve to be ripped apart,
And to see my pieces strewn across the room,
Slowly being put into another machine,
And them then hating me,
For even existing?
So,
I ask again,
Why me?
-Me, 5/27
Me
Want to know a secret?
I no longer have my heart.
It has been ripped away,
By claws of black,
And eyes of red,
They came,
and took everything that was me.
Now,
I stand here,
A husk of what I used to be.
So now,
I am just a husk,
Of a once beautifully fake husk.
I.
Am.
Nothing.
To.
Me.
-Me, 5/27
YOU ARE READING
The Dark Poems In My Head
PoetryThis is those little whispering poems that weasel their way into my wonderful brain. Don't know how this'll turn out, but, you know how it goes! Lets try something new! It is mature because some of this shit is bad! Extremely! Not sexual, but words...
