they pick one the innocent little one the one that struggles for control and. the adults love the show but the fail to see the anguish in my eyes. I let my mind get grim and the crowd Begins to grin. my last escape is gin. they seem to like it when my eyes turn into darkness l. I fail to see the chances and the are blinded and can't see the changes. beg them for mercy. but they're feeding me anger. have mercy on the next goat
YOU ARE READING
my butterfly
Poetrypoems I write poetry is like my only escape and way to deal with shit going around in my life. Much better than cutting in my opinion so yeah they may not be the best you have been warned
