Being my friend
Is troublesome,
Ill admit.
You have to chip away at layers
Of emotions and memories
That block my perception,
Of reality and idiocy.
My soul is shattered.
I'm missing some pieces,
There all scattered about.
Ill never find them all,
That I don't doubt.
I'm a little broken
Ill never fit in.
But with my friends I'm whole,
And that's what matters.
What comes from within,
That makes it all count.
YOU ARE READING
Poems and Stories
PoetryPoems and stories. I recommend skipping the first few, their old and suck. -TRIGGER WARNING-
