I have these pockets in my jeans
But they are just for show
If they serve a real purpose
It's not one that I know
It drives me up the wall when I
First realize that they're fake
Each time I try to use them I'll
Still frown with a head shake
It's a problem I can't fix
So it goes on the list
Of all the issues in this world
I wish did not exist
So I smile and I laugh-
Make small talk like a pro
I don't linger on problems
I just let the bad thoughts go
And if I lie awake at night
Wondering if I'm different
If I think of those I know
And how we're all indifferent
Just know I loathe those fake pockets
Because it is so hard
To face all the other things
That leave us hurt and and scarred
YOU ARE READING
Poems to Leave Streaks of Ink
PoetryAnd I'd rage at the monsters, But that's the task of fools, Who cannot bring themselves to know, Monsters are humans' tools... I write poems like this, just usually longer...feel free to give some of them a read:)
