Poems

Embarassment

I always travel to the past,
reminiscing,

Crying.

I always sigh of what lasts,
dreaming,

Sighing.

My idiocy brings me down,
my tripping and falling,

And walking into doors that you clearly saw, but still did anyways, now let's not mention when you ran into one.

My idiocy brings me back,
chaining me down,

The only thing holding you down is your backpack that somehow got tied to your leg.

My idiocy makes me blush,
all of my hiding,

Yeah. You know where. Right where they could see you. Good job.

My idiocy makes me cry,
my pain and avoiding,

Makes you feel like you wanna die. Yeah. I know the drill.

My idiocy makes me stop,
just like this poem.

Good night. (lol)