a poem i dont feel like putting into any of my existing books;
im a bad person.
anybody would know that,
if they paid attention.
i was a mess.
a big ball of scribbles.
like an angry kid
was given a box of chubby crayons.
im the aftermath of a hurricane,
the calm before the storm,
the tantrum of a baby.
the knife that you cut your finger with by accident,
the paper cut on your left palm.
you shouldnt trust me.
you never should have trusted me.
but you did,
and i broke you,
more than i really intended to.
but i was saving you.
saving you from me.
me, the liar,
me, the traitor,
me, the one who pulled out your heart and stomped on it,
me, the one you should never have met.
im sorry, for everything i caused you
for everything youre going through.
im sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry.
but sorry doesnt cut it, does it?