I hate it.
The way I act.
The way I think.
The way I'm scared of the truth.
The truth that they will all leave me.
Some time soon.
It may take one day.
It make take a week.
But one already left me.
I've used all my time with you.
You'll hate me soon.
You'll forget I exist.
You'll think of memories and I'll just be a blur.
It'll happen soon.
The clock struck twelve.
It's way past noon.
I've used my time.
And it's gone way too soon.
So I'll say goodbye.
And hope not to lose.
The amazing memories.
That are always gone too soon.
YOU ARE READING
It's a Sometimes thing
شِعرA collection of poems I've written that span over many years. They are pretty depressive so please read with caution.
