I'm excellent at making friends
No matter where I go
It never has been hard for me
It's just a skill I know
But like at Cinderella's ball
The magic does not last
For though I have gained many pals
They leave me just as fast
Perhaps I'm doing something wrong
Although I don't know what
Do I give off a vibe that says
I'm worth less than a mutt?
I've met so many people now
But I've never been known
Stand in rooms with hundreds yet
Feel achingly alone
I think I had a heart of glass
But now it's turned to stone
I'm Cinderella with no prince—
No friends to call her own
ŞİMDİ OKUDUĞUN
Poems to Leave Streaks of Ink
ŞiirAnd 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:)
