Who will fix my broken wings,
And who will teach me how to fly?
Who will do it all,
And not just say I'll try?
It's a selfish world I'll tell you,
We are all conceited.
Our round bubbles,
Is all we see.
It can't be helped,
We all have problems of our own.
Or so I say to myself.
Hush they are busy,
I think inside my fcked up brain.
Before turning away,
Walking back into my room.
Digging my face into the pillow,
Attempting to muffle the agonising noises.
Take me to a cliff someone,
I won't jump to my death.
I just want to scream away my lungs,
Without heads turning my way.
YOU ARE READING
My Painful Plea
PoetryI worry about things, and they make me cry. There are those days when I keep saying, why? I blame it on myself, for all that pain. When I got confused and picked the wrong lane. Poems I write, may mean no shit to you, but to me.. They're my handke...
