Staring at the hot and cold signs
The water dripping repetitively down
The drain, hitting the plastic edge
All this noise but no one sits
Still to listen, they're all to loud,
Fast, talking, running, laughing, walking why is this noise here if no one cares to listen? It feels lonely
And deprived of comfort, I sit still and listen, just because I can and will. Not for anyone else, but them. Feeling their loneliness lost inside this drain. Always feeling pain. No one listens, and no one learns. Nothing is ever their concern. So watch me step right off this cliff and fall into a ditch, because I'm to stupid to understand their logic on the world that only revolves around their heads.
YOU ARE READING
Thinking Is A Nasty Habit
PoesiaThis is just some of my poetry that I couldn't keep in anymore. They're my thoughts on how people feel, and what I feel. I did this particularly to see if anyone else thought similar or felt anything for whatever I write.
