I can be aggressive
I can be impressive
I can repeat lines written on a pageI can speak my own words
Let my anger lead my writing away like a group of lost birdsI let my feelings be described by my age.
I'm 'to young to love'
So I shove down my feelingsI put it into writing.
I put it into scars on my wrist.
I need help.
But I won't get it.
I don't want it.
I don't need to fuck up any more lives then I have to.
If I'm to young to love, I'm to young to feel. So I don't.Are you pleased?
When I'm dead knowing that you're old enough to feel sad for me?You're not sad.
You don't know sad.I can't leave my room without wanting to cry because I can't mentally handle my surroundings from pushing down my feelings because it was to much for you to handle that I might have fucking feelings.
YOU ARE READING
Kimya Dawson
ŞiirThis book is a collection of poems. Most of them are weird, and almost all of them are based on my life.