Sick of hearing something
that only would tear me down
Sick of repeatedly asking
how the world turned to a playground
why I had turned to be someone
who's surrounded with nothing but mere cracks
the system throwing rocks
like the feeble I am
Who am I?
negligible I am
Where am I?
been in hell for a long time
I'll ask the sky, one last time
when will I
be alright?
YOU ARE READING
Antidote
PoetryAn antidote for the lost, the hurt, and the broken. Highest Ranking: #03 in Poetry [06/21/16]
