In an ideal world, you'd knock on my door and wait for my permission to come in.
In an ideal world, you'd never take my diary and read my entries, or steal my phone and read my texts.
In an ideal world, I would come up to you with trusted secrets.
In my world, doors and walls don't exist.
In my world, there's never a good hiding place for my diary, and no password is strong enough to keep you out.
In my world, you urge me to tell you anything I haven't told you before.
You should've taught me to be an open book.
Instead I'm paranoid every single day.
You should've taught me to be honest and be trustworthy.
Instead I've become a very good liar with convincing stories.
And since you have no respect for me,
I've lost all respect and love for you.
YOU ARE READING
Dandelions are Flowers
PoetryWhen you hear, "weed" you can't help but think of all of the bad things. But when you hear, "flower" you think of all of the good things. Why should dandelions be full of the bad, when they can be full of the good?
