A thousand days dead.
And a thousand days done.
And you never noticed.
You had stopped being my sun.
You left and went on.
Shined in another's world.
And I'm left frazzled
by the sudden whirl.
You're gone.
You've left.
But you're not the first.
I have tons of friends, yet,
I'm always left with a thirst.
For companionship I lack.
Cause fake friendships always slack.
And though they fills up empty spaces,
I never forget the faces.
Of the ones who meant the most.
Most everyone leaves in a whirl.
With a hop or a bounce
and sometimes a twirl.
Everyone's happy to leave.
This I'm not surprised to say.
Because it's seems to be very hard
to convince anyone to stay.
YOU ARE READING
Nobody Was Meant to See
Poetry[Trigger Warning, please be safe when reading] They aren't supposed to know. They aren't meant to read these poems that I'm writing. I've concealed them for a reason. -Shitty poems about how I feel-
