I'm crawling for the finish desperately,
Friends don't want me to finish they my enemies,
Faking a mask till the finish Line fucks me up mentally.
Fucking friends fucking fakes always be fucking me,
I hope they all see what they've done to me,
Because I won't be another me,
I'll be the monster they won't see.
I'll blow up get angry and blow up,
I'll go psycho make them hit some high notes as I make them have an empty eye hole,
This is my row, like it or not just please go,
Don't know how I'm hurting more I look down in my soul and see I am not fully whole.
I wake up to my alarm clock, what a weird dream, I still remember my hatred and the sound of their screams. I feel the need to cry, I feel the need to hide, what if I'm dreaming within a dream, what if I'm just high....
YOU ARE READING
Letters To The Writer: Volume 1
PoetryJust me writing poems, can be sad, can be happy, matters about he day and what I'm writing about. This is really for me but if you like it a share, vote, comment would be much appreciated, thank you.
