A pot
Big and rusty
Nearly filled to the brim
Contents bubble over,
Hitting the feeble cover
Threatening to escape
Sometimes does.
Anger
Full and heavy
Lips tremble,
Chest heaving,
Fists clenched
Words come out loud
Incomplete, disorganized.
My mom says I blame my life on her too much.
Do I really?
I guess it may seem like I do,
But no.
I don't blame her for my life
There is a lot of shit I could have done to save it myself.
But I do blame her
for the long reach I must make
when looking for some self-esteem.
I do attribute my shaky footing
When it comes to the road of confidence.
She didn't ruin my life,
I did that all on my own.
She just doesn't help make itany better
YOU ARE READING
Over The Ledge
Poesía"Little do you know how I'm breaking while you fall asleep" Some people turn to alcohol Some turn to drugs I have words.
