I found out
There was a man
Called the king of pop
Yet I learned of him
When his heart did stop
I danced and sang
For I became a popstar myself
Though I always dreamed
Of larger things
Ballet slippers on my feet
Yet my parents never
Considered my wishes
They brushed them under the rug
I cried and begged for my rise to fame
They would never budge
I found out
There was a thing
Called mental deterioration
Yet I learned of it
After the damage was made
I cried and stared off
For I was broken
As I dreamed
For better things
Desiring to be freed
Yet I was a kid
I was imprisoned
And my captors
Are my parents
Required to care for me
Did they even care about me?
YOU ARE READING
My Life Poetically-Dressed
PoetryThis is a collection of poetry I wrote about each year of my life. Some years will have more than one poem. I know this platform is mostly for novels and such, but I felt like receiving feedback on my poetry. I hope you can feel heard, seen, and l...
