I'm not a good person.
But neither are you.
See, everyone has a story to tell,
A bouquet of roses to sell.
It's just that mine
Were dying,
Dead.
They had finished their time
On my planet.
They had finished their time
On your planet.
They had finished their time.
They were not breathing, when they left
And neither were you.
Shattering, cracking, breaking, shaking I
Can't.
Stop.
Crying. For you.
See, I'm not a good person
But at least my thorns were small, unseen
But you, your thorns broke me
They broke
Everyone.
So, I had to
Break you too.
YOU ARE READING
random poems ☾
Poetrya collection of poems (i'm going to be adding more and more so it's not a finished thing)
