How I miss feeling comfortable.
I used to like being in my own skin,
With my own chub,
With my own face,
My own body to contain my soul,
A soul that no longer likes it's dwelling.
How I miss feeling happy.
Once I would laugh,
Once I would smile,
Once upon a time, it was all genuine.
How I miss wanting to love.
I used to have no reason to be so loyal,
I used to have no reason to be protective,
Now I have no love left for myself,
Only love I'll serve on a silver platter,
To everyone else.
How I miss being myself.
I once acted like myself,
Then I grew up,
I made friends and,
Regardless of how they would think of me,
I would let them wipe their feet on me,
And walk over me.
How I miss feeling human.
I became the doormat,
I let everyone walk over me,
I let them wipe their feet on me,
Now I carry their problems,
And my own.
How I miss my life.
I want to be comfortable in my skin again.
I want to have my happiness back again.
I want to have my loving nature again.
I want to be myself again.
I want to feel human again.
YOU ARE READING
Just A Mess
PoetryI'm not too sure as to what this is, but I often get bored and lost in my thoughts, so why not write them out? As I wrote I created poetic sentences, lines and phrases. So, I hope they can be enjoyed despite their mainly heavy topics. This book cove...
