Fine.
I hate that word.
I hate that it's the first word that spills out of broken mouths
and I hate that it's the word that spills out of mine.
I hate that it causes yelling
and I hate the thick pines.
I hate the choked up wording
and I hate the jagged lines.
And I like that rainbows,
bend all the time,
and release the color,
from their twisted lines.
and I like that flower petals,
are never refined.
Because when they're not aligned,
they replicate my mind.
And I hate that everyone's hurting
while I'm stuck in this world of mine.
I never stop to help,
because I'm too caught up,
in the fact that I hate myself all the time.
But I hate most of all
when you say you're fine
and I know it's a lie.
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-
