with a gun to my head i smile
the gun in question being a rifle
behind the gun is the old me
tired of the way i seem to be
taking pills to help with the pain
doctor said they will help my brain
feeling numb from my feelings
picking at an orange, i keep peeling
rejecting food until im small
something that wont help at all
i discontinue my choice to eat
i will not continue to take a seat
people making comments about my hair
as if they think that i will not care
"kisses scattered across my face"
karma, you bitch, you know your place.
YOU ARE READING
Art of the Finest! (A collection of poems by Me!)
PoetryWhat's there to explain? It's a bunch of poems. Some are supposed to seem depressing and some just end up that way. Maybe someday I'll learn how to happiness :) but for now i'll just continue exposing the true emotions of our broken world
