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i hate being a mopey bitch sometimes
riddled with doubts/that would make Atlas Quiver/
my shoulders cant bare the load/death doth not hither/
fast enough/mister reaper why havent you come for me?/
i feel like the undead/walking amongst the pink and pretty/
i have a girl/but i dont believe her panegyric like praises/
going off about how im perfect/its like i dont hear it/my face is/
looking away/my gestures paint a not so certain portrait/
of my thoughts of us not making it/but see the doubts, my mind, does not support it/
i get to pragmatic/i look at our relationship like chess/
she had a good upbringing/mine...ehhh/no the best/
shes never been hopless/while i feel it lying homeless/
on my friends floor/copin/with what feels like a will thats broken/
the baggage is weighing down/from those who have landed and left/
some of there unwanted bullshit/they passed it on i guess/
you see im a self loathing nice guy/who just wants to be loved/
and she is doing a great job/and ill see that better/if i just let go of my troubles and just trust/
Oh dove you always have the
Oh dove you always have the most wonderous of comments
This deep. The sincerity, I
This deep. The sincerity, I love. Comes through loud and clear. The words' overall picture is one of feeling downtrodden but yet the beauty of facing it and touching it leaves the reader with the hope that others do see their own frailties, and struggle to transcend them even if only for the joy of living...the bright side. What comes to mind is: "in order to see light, we need to face the darkness". Nice write, readmy5tuff!
...and he asked her, "do you write poetry? Because I feel as if I am the ink that flows from your quill."
"No", she replied, "but I have experienced it. "