You know there's something strange about the way that we lie about everything
We bottle up all of these emotions and then what happens after that?
Suddenly there is a shift in what we call love.
A different meaning arises into a fully fledged nightmare that we can't escape.
Much like the top of the shelf, I'm held higher than all of my lesser beings.
Though I'm the one left untouched and unrecognized, collecting dust.
Even when I have been recognized, I am no longer appreciated.
Though the dust collectively rolled into bunnies seem to move further than I do within years.
I wonder when I'll finally get my chance.
YOU ARE READING
Dreams Over Reality
PoetryA compliation of poems and skits. The skits are no longer being continued. Most poems are about me and the events around me. Read my story This is my story.
