Nobody owes you anything.
Not a hello,
not a reply,
not a smile.
Nothing.
Then why do I keep
thinking that
someone
will once remember
the small things I tell -
the dots and commas,
not the sentences?
Why do I keep
wishing that
someone
will want to
hold me in their arms?
Why?
Why am I so naïve?
I should've known,
but I can't see,
truly,
what the reason is,
that I am not enough,
never ...
Nobody owes me anything.
Especially
their respect.
And acceptance.
But I still
keep dreaming
that I'll be
someone's dream
one day.
Because, truly,
I can't see.
YOU ARE READING
The Questions (and Answers, Maybe)
PoesíaThis is a poetry book about questions I have on my mind almost all of the time. It's about poetry itself, my feelings, my points of view on some hard topics and more. It's very personal for me, but I know that many other people think about these thi...
