My Poetry

Broken

Broken

Hair seems to die like the leaves last fall,

But i'm not sure i'll make it to see when i'm bald.

Everyone suffers from the pain

i've chosen to accept upon myself.

But only i can see the reason why

I've taken this and why i fell.

Food seemed so secondary to appearnce,

At the time.

But now, joy has vanished.

And i'm so famished.

I'm done.

I'm done pursueing

what people thought was mine,

I'm done wrecking,

What I wanted all the time

You can go ahead and criticize,

But i'm going to be happy with my life.