I can't tell anymore
my feet are too sore
if those tiny poundings
are coming from my eyes
and falling to the floorI've been stood in the shower much too long
to remember what it was that I did wrong.
It must have been something awful
to deserve such a beating,
to make me sad when I sing a song.Could it be that this is just me?
Have I already fulfilled my destiny?
The rest of my life is no longer needed
so I waste the days in many ways
trying my best to be someone funny.Call me a miserable whore, I dare you.
Hate me and push me, I beg you.
Don't you know what I've done?
I would tell you if I knew
and then I'd spend the night with you.
YOU ARE READING
Words Someone Has Probably Already Said
PoetryJust a bunch of words that mean something to everybody and everything to somebody.