An arrogant person once told a happy lady,
She was ugly, fat, useless,
But what really got her,
Was when he told her,
“You’re a waste of air.
Why do you exist?”
*
An arrogant person once told a crying lady,
“Shut up and stop crying.
You’re being too sensitive.
What I said didn’t hurt you,
I only told you my mind.”
*
A crying lady has no control of her actions.
At the time she is upset,
She does not think.
All these harmful thoughts,
She thinks they’re ok.
Because she knows they’ll return,
On another sad day.
*
Something though changed in the once sad lady.
She stopped her crying and became an artist.
The drawings she drew were so unique,
No two were alike.
She used not,
A pencil, pen, paper, nor paintbrush.
Her utensil, a razor.
Her workspace, her wrist.
*
The new changed lady,
One day found a young man,
They grew incredibly close.
They lay under the stars,
Gazing in the blackness.
The young man notices her art work,
But he wants a closer look.
He rolls up her sleeve and frowns.
Giving her a sad smile,
He rolls up his sleeve.
“Baby, I draw, too.”
*
*
*
Hello, I am going on vacation so unfortunately I won’t be able to write again until the 6th when I get home so I will update again then. And also sorry for this shitty update. Definatly NOT my best work. Thank you all for reading and voting!
-Anna
YOU ARE READING
Broken Poems
Poetryi write what i feel. no rhyme or rhythm. just my thoughts put into some kind of an order.
