I'm not like them
I don't don't do anything say anything I will never be anything.
I strive to be something so you will look up to me.
Please just tell me you are proud
I may not say much but my thoughts are loud.
I am the filler child for your dispose, push me off the windowsill when you are stumbling inside the door.
Talk slow banters with me get bored and fly off into the brighter direction to feed off the others, I will then step back into the deep end and drown at the bottom while you all walk away.
But that's not the only think I think or feel.
You, the closest person to me pick me like a flower for I was once desirable, alive and vibrant.
I began to wither and you looked at me with saddened eyes
petal by petal I have been fading away, you have come to admire my flower like beauty less and less but I will wait and wait for you, living on the last few drops of water you placed me in from the start.
I am nearly dead.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry from a damaged soul
PoetryMany words that have been trapped inside finally scratched at the walls of my soul and escaped.
