Who am I? The question lied on the survey. I thought I knew, I thought I knew, but my pencil screamed. It was scared... scared of me.
I was lovely shining thing, shining so bright everyone could see, but one person got inside and their shine hurt... it really hurt me. I didn't tell anyone, I just bandaged it all up, but my bulb was damaged, I could no longer light up. So everyone looked at me like I was werid, and asked who I was. I wasn't like other lights... so I ran far away and forgot who I was.
Now I look at the question, and me and my pencil stare in fear. We haven't heard that in a long time since people just decided to turn around and walk away. So who am I? Will I ever know the answer to that question? Will I ever be like other lights again? Or will the human just throw me out in the bin?
YOU ARE READING
poems/qoutes/thoughts
Poetry(made the cover myself) do I look like I fucking know what's going on!? But fr tho grab some popcorn this shit good
