We all have a house
They are all made of different materials
My house is made of bricks on the outside
But on the inside
There is another house made of cards
With furniture made of cards as well.
You walked into my brick one
And knocked down most of my carded one
But at least your house of tissues can never compare
At least I can move on after
At least my cards don't have bricks painted on it
You haven't hit your ultimate low
And you haven't made renovations
But don't worry
I'm fine with it
I've known it for a while
It doesn't hurt me
Because I'm over it
As long as we can just act normally
My house wants to rebuild itself
But it needs the person that knocked it down
To say we're okay
YOU ARE READING
surviving me
Poetrythe pains the struggles the overall hurt and my, at the time, undying tunnel of darkness starting from fifth grade onward welcome to my past author's note: This is writing from when I was in middle school that I would like to share. Maybe you can...
