I don't want to talk, not to anyone, not at all.
I don't want to help my self, I'd rather enjoy the fall.
I'd love to hear the air, as it brushes through my head,
I'd love to know what life is like when you're really dead.
Pain is such a funny thing, demanding to be felt;
Coping even funnier, everyone is unsure with how they dealt.
I want to know so many things, yet I do not wish to ask,
For wandering in someone else's mind is quite a daunting task.
I'd rather be an observer, and watch the world go by;
Unsure of what I want in life, I know I'm yet to die.
YOU ARE READING
An Amalgamation of Words
PoetryI'm almost as bad at writing descriptions as I am at writing poems, but at least I tried. Sharing my inner turmoil, one poorly worded sentence at a time.
