Some words are difficult to pen
Even more so to say
I'm sorry I never opened my mouth
And kept my feelings at bay
All these pointless rhymes
They no longer make sense
To you they're just mindless words
Of my tragic fantasized romance
I don't know where you've been
Or what you have become
But after that night all that I've seen
Was that my existence was second to none
When I was done playing pretend
It was weird to see you contented
It was like you still resent
And every infliction was well-intended
Don't ask me why I'm still writing
You're right I'm melodramatic
At least I'm not fighting
Or a negative coping addict
YOU ARE READING
Two Years Late
PoetryA collection of moments where rhyming was necessary. Short, simple poetry; yet, those who relate - too many. Weird titles for humor, but that doesn't make the poem experience less painful. Those titles are painful to me though. You'll see.
