I'm sorry!
I squeak
Opening my mouth
In an attempt to speak.
Don't you apologize to me,
I'm told.
You don't need to apologize for anything.
They're convinced I'm sold.
I'm sorry
Echoes in my head.
Maybe I should stop talking
And bothering you
Maybe I should stop living
So I could shut up on cue
When told to not apologize
But I can't help it
And when I die
Each grain of my ashes will be apologizing,
for hitting the dirt.
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-
