bored
of
life.
when the only thing
to cheer me up
is salt and snacks and food,
and even that
brings me down.
when the only thing to excite me
is the mere hope
that one day
i may have someone
to love me the way i deserve.
a hope im quickly losing grip of
bored
of
life.
and waking daily
to carry out the same boring routine
and to worry weekly that i am not enough.
which each time grows stronger.
as does my fear of the dark
and each of my childish traits
bored
of
life.
and trying to hold on
just a little longer that morning
so i may eat 2 meals instead of 3.
im bored of it.
and the growing pains have slowed
so ive nothing to look forward to.
and the night is ever too silent
and even the day has lost its noise.
it seems i very well should, too.
YOU ARE READING
poetic
Poezjaim not very good at poetry, but my goal is to write it until I am. and then after im good at it ill write more poetry because then I'll enjoy doing it
