Who makes their friends out to be
Sad stories, characters
Stars falling, drifting, dying
From the sky
When really it was
Never that complicated
To hate those who confess
To Emotion
No. Those who over confess
Making their lives alluring
Only because you wish
Of the sane relief
That the reality of their truth
Brings momentarily
Who locked inside can
Not hear
The ones Staring and Crying
Because it holds no benefit
Image juxtaposed
Half of a whole, that already complete
We all demand that we
Are not the same
But our
Confessions will be repeated
While our coffins rot
Detached poets. Voices.
Souls full of soft smoke
Trickle, trickle, trickle
Uncontrolled talisman of our
Uncontrolled lives
Maybe we danced along
Some high way
While you sat still.
Normal. Alone.
We sang
While maybe you choked
These great accusations
You place on our
Youth
When you have no mind
To see us on our knees
Ripping at heartstrings
So maybe tommrow it
Won't hurt.
YOU ARE READING
Short Stories and Poems by Me
PoetryEnter at your own risk. My mind over the years is displayed in here. ((PS: even my worst ideas get put in this log because it's my back up for everything I write. I apologize for the horror if anyone is reading this))
