Would you make me sleep on the sofa,
if we argued through the day?
Would you leave like all the others,
although you promised to stay?
I want to think happy,
I want to let things just be,
I wish I could ignore my brain
when it is bothering me.
I was never born to be content,
it seems I was made a little askew;
Without my constant loneliness,
I don't think I'd know what to do.
I find a strange sense of comfort
within my misery,
I think you'll find in someone else,
what you'll never find in me.
YOU ARE READING
An Amalgamation of Words
PoetryI'm almost as bad at writing descriptions as I am at writing poems, but at least I tried. Sharing my inner turmoil, one poorly worded sentence at a time.
