it's the wrong person wrong time, right?
or wrong time, right person.
or wrong person, right time.
they never seem to both be right at the same time,
least not till much much later.
why hang your head on it?
won't make it better.
why end a sentence on that?
won't try again?
why stop the story short rather than live it through?
maybe because I'm tired.
tired of starting a new.
tired of trying something new.
tired of trying to be someone new.
tired of the life I'm brought here to live,
because this life seems not to fit.
I don't want it to fit.
I just want to fit in.
nothing will ever make that happen. so..
quite a contrary to believe idea, would ending it make it better?
everyone says no.
everyone says to live.
for your siblings,
for your parents,
for your family,
for your friends.
never live for you.
never live in your rules.
never about how sad and mad you'll be at yourself for quitting.
The one day you do decide will be the day you were meant to finally get what you deserve,
at least via your luck.
due to your luck you'll give up and next thing you know everything was going to turn around.
so don't keep your head down.
look up and see the stars you will live in when it does end,
then walk forward until the very end.
your life does not need to end.
not yet.
ΔΙΑΒΑΖΕΙΣ
Poems of a mended artist.
Ποίησηthis will be a part two to my other set of poems. please read them but they are not needed to understand these. These will be much sadder than my original ones usually.
