Your hurt.
I understand that.
You have cuts from glass.
Gashes.
Bruises.
I have holes.
Bullet holes.
But you say that is not the problem.
He hurt you.
Your heart.
He broke it.
Into a million pieces.
For what reason?
Only he knows.
I still feel her pain.
Betrayal.
So much of it.
That's why we have walls.
Trump is building one.
Close your boarders.
Intruders are coming.
Called players.
They play with you.
With your heart.
With your mind.
Like brainwashing.
But people don't get it.
Don't let people drag you down with their claws.
I'm being dragged down.
Was, atleast.
I stopped, and just left.
Left him behind in the dust.
Dust so thick,
No bomb can get through.
Not even the mother bomb, America made.
No one can.
Build up your defenses.
Get ready.
War will come.
With who, I don't know.
So many I don'ts.
People tell me to be more positive.
But I can't.
I just can't.
I can't.
I can't.
I can't.
Plain and simple.
I'm a pessimist, and I hate myself for it.
I feel like a monster.
I try.
I try to be positive.
But it never works.
Nothing does.
YOU ARE READING
My Feelings Of Poetry
PoetryI still often update, but not as often. This is a story about my feelings, in a poet kind of way. I am not very good at rhyme, but will try. These can also help you. Wise sayings in these too! I constantly change what I write, so be ready for long c...
