"Plea"
This is me
Trying to tell myself,
"Hey, it's okay..."
Life gets better that way.
NOT. It really doesn't.
'Cause thoughts can't break you free.
Actions does.
Or so it tells us.
This is me
Trying to tell myself,
"You're not perfect."
Life is a born defect.
Oh, c'mon!
People keep telling you that.
But does it really matter?
Perfectly imperfect is still perfection.
This is me
Hoisting myself from the ground,
Dragging my feet from shards of blood;
Tears flood.
This is me
Tearing my edges apart;
I'm split in half, so torn--
So torn.
This is me
Keeping myself up together,
Hiding the tears like nothing happened,
"I'm not sullen." LIE.
STOP confusing me.
STOP trying to morph me.
STOP erasing my existence.
For a change, please...listen.
(c) WhiteSecrets715 2016.
YOU ARE READING
White Mirrors
PoetryMy third poetry collection. This is basically how my university life went: Crazy, drama, loopy, happy, and genuine bitter partings. It'd be great if you could read some and tell me what you think about them. I'd really appreciate your thoughts!
