Sitting down feeling empty and lost with no purpose
As my life feels like a circus, why do I feel so worthless
I can't tend to feel, but I can write these verses
I don't know if this sickness is a blessing or a curse
That I can draw a straw with words
Make you picture yourself as a bird, make you forget what you heard, while I confuse you with my words
But I can never let them show, while I grow, I know that I must learn to adapt
That I need to sense the traps in the gaps, forget about emotions that I lack
I don't know if it'll eventually come back to haunt me
But then that's just something nobody ever taught me
I demons that taunt me in the sea
With the Devil's temptation lurking for me
I'm gifted with a blessing and curse
With an ill infection that doesn't stop to disperse
I wonder if I'll ever mind my goddess nurse
To take this illness instead of making it worse
YOU ARE READING
Ill Transmitted Infection
PoetrySelf made poetry. A story of a foreign guy that grows up emotionless.
