The Bully
By Jamilla.
I whimper,
As he draws near,
And wonder what reason,
He will invent today.
Already, I know I am ugly,
Already, I know I am weak,
The things you call me,
I have heard it all before,
Sometimes, I even wish,
That you'd be more original.
Anyway, it hurts all the same,
And I still feel deadly ashamed.
Deadly because,
I go home and cry,
Deadly because,
On days like today,
I wish to close my eyes,
And never wake up again.
To myself, I sigh,
If this is what you want,
Come on over,
And give me your worst.
YOU ARE READING
Reflections Of An Amateur
PoetryJust some things i came up with... doubtlessly amateur but still solely a reflection of my inner thoughts and conflicts :)