I feel like a nervous reck
and when I'm all alone in my room I let it all out,
and all they have to say is stop your pout
I can't help but feel so small,
but they still treat me like a doll
too feel so alone.
but it doesn't seem to stop my morning grown
and my rotting brain smells like Cologne
no one heard the cries.
and he knows replies
so then he cries and
looks up at the skies
and no one cared that he was dying
and they can do is keep sighing about their little problems.
but he's flying all the way to heaven
Maybe I'm better off dead a
YOU ARE READING
my butterfly
Poesiapoems 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
