Dear the ones my mother calls family.
I'm tired, but I stay awake
I'm hungry for love you will never feed me
I'm hurt that you can't remember the little things about me that others do
you want me to talk to you
but I'm to tired to think of talking points
I'm too hungry for my head to think striaght
I'm too scared of what you will say in return
I'm far too hurt to ever even try to talk to you
I'm sorry; but you are all the ones who did this to me
You are all the reasons why I say I'm fine
You are all the reasons I have stopped trying
I'm sorry I have failed you
But I guess you can't spell family without the fail
YOU ARE READING
A Spark Of Hope
PoetryTHE GESTURE: By George Oppen The question is: how does one hold an apple Who likes apples And how does one handle Filth? The question is How does one hold something In the mind which he intends To grasp and how does the salesman Hold a bauble he int...
