My Dark Friend-A Book Of Poems

You Want

I spoke a bit too early,

I'm too tired to be girly

I've gotten sick of our childish game,

I'd rather be me, they're all the same

Is it you speaking, or is it your fame?

You crawl out and quietly watch the maim

Is it bad to not want to be the same?

I cut my hair, like you don't enjoy,

You wish I'd get styled, just as a toy

I dress profoundly

, You wish I slept more soundly

Dead, alone.