If the sun hadn't peaked below the land
If we had noticed the presents given by His hand
Maybe I'd not have to struggle to comprehend
Why the music stopped
Why the band broke up
I want to question it out loud
But each time I try, I come to choke.
The feelings I've provoked
Inflated
As a hot air balloon is, ready to implode
But refuses to
Despite the neccessity, the stressful urge
Instead on my happiness will it splurg
But it's better mine than theirs.
YOU ARE READING
Random Poetry Collection
PoetryThis is a collection of bad poetry I've managed to compose through the slurs of ink we've come to know as letters we form into what we know as language. The '*'s indicate that this poem is a little on the sad/darker side.
