i fill my bucket with flowers.
i start to walk down the street.
i meet you halfway down the block,
you're staring at your feet.
i continue on my walk,
mindlessly humming a tune.
trying to find any purpose to this world,
as it will all end soon.
i see a little blue boy,
crying on his own.
he seems quite upset,
for he doesn't have a home.
i look up at the scintillating sun,
how dare you be so bright?
this world is dark here,
yet comes alive at night.
i sigh to myself.
it's time to put
this dusty book
back onto it's shelf.
it's quiet.
it's dark.
it's sad and it's true.
i question why i stick with you
why do i keep waking up,
day by day,
perhaps i'm just far too afraid to say;
this is bullshit.
why do i keep going back
to this job that i hate?
filled with people who steal my flowers.
is this truly fate?
with these thoughts running through my mind,
i turn back around.
i make my way home.
i ignore the sound.
i ignore the sobs.
the silent screams of pain.
'YOU DON'T WANT TO BE HERE'
shouts my brain.
however i can't bring myself to leave
this world that i hate.
i have to stay here,
wait for fate.
as i pass the blue boy,
he looks up at me
he smiles with his tear stained face
as if to say he were happy.
i hand him a flower,
a piece of my heart,
he takes it gracefully
and so i leave.
i continue to walk,
slower and slower,
staring at the moon,
wishing it were lower
it is now night,
as i pass by you once more.
i look at you,
your eyes still fixated on the floor.
once more, i take a flower.
from my bucket it's retrieved.
i hand it to you.
you look relieved.
YOU ARE READING
horrible poetry- happily depressing
Poetrythis is just some garbage poetry i'm writing. nobody'll read it, and that's fine. im just doin' some things.