My poems

Weak

I need some practice.
But the fact is.
I've lost my touch.
Everything's become too much.
Every time I try.
I ask myself why?
Why can't I do this.
Why'd you make me promise.

Why can't I get this right?
Why do I thry to fight?
I already know how this ends.
Me without all my friends.
All because they'll see what's in my mind.
And as I go to speak.
I can hear my voice is weak.