Thoughts invade every piece of me
They tell me what I'm supposed to be
Good or bad they do their job
They tell me I am just a blob
That I'll never have any talents
I'll also never have valiance
Happiness? Forget that
My importance is that of a gnat
The good thoughts exist too, but never to me
They're always aimed at the people I see
She's absolutely stunning
Wow look at her talent in running
Her eyes are as beautiful as stars
But all I have are scars
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Thoughts. Peculiar aren't they? They're made by me, yet they continue to insult me. 11:15pm. Hopefully I'll see you again. Even though no one reads this.
YOU ARE READING
Introspection
Poesianoun in.tro.spec.tion \ˌin-trə-ˈspek-shən\ : the process of examining your own thoughts or feelings I'm just gonna dump thoughts here. Probably sad. Maybe not.
