it's ironic, having people
who claim they love you and shit
yet, the only thing that really
stuck with you through the years
was this constant feeling of loneliness.
you say you're sick of your hoes
blowing up your phone all the time,
yet your bed's still empty.
when you're weak,
there's no one who's line you can hit.
in the end, it's only you
you came into this world alone,
and that's how you'll die.
you know what's doubtful?
you crossing anyone's mind
after you've left.
YOU ARE READING
the letdown
Poetryself destructive thoughts and discoveries mixed into somewhat poetry.
