"I'm tired of living like i don't care about anything for myself, to be better as a person. All i seem to care about are the stares strangers give me at little cafés down the road, in my neighborhood park where kids play and parents watching for their kids to not get in the road
—
My family dining room where the silence is eerie and the candles are leaking little puddles in foggy glass. How we grow apart one day and then the next we are acting like things are normal again
—
All i can do is awkwardly stare at the little blue veins that run my wrist like a river , looking down at my plate and not being able to eat a bite of anything
—
You pretend that those hurtful words before never came out of your dry and bitter mouth when you spoke to me. It's like you are chewing on glass with your words but i'm the one bleeding. I don't think you ever cared about me, after all, i was just a lazy child who didn't know how to do anything for anyone."
YOU ARE READING
misty eyes, silent cries || poetry ;
Poezjaoriginal poetry i've written for the past few months, that seem relevant.
