I'm horrible.
A disgusting excuse.
For complaining so often
when you're hurting too.
And I want to help.
But I don't know how.
And I can imagine your face
set in a scowl.
An excuse.
A disgusting excuse.
I think and I think.
You want to help?
Then help!
Talk to her.
Hug her.
Make her feel better.
I'm trying!
I'm sorry.
YOU ARE READING
Nobody Was Meant to See
Poesía[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-
