PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Driving course of sickness and remorse,
poppa don't preach, someone sipped from my porridge,
too much to carry myself so i leave it all in storage,
when it comes to pricking fingers, could it possibly be worse?

I could be faking, instead of searching for the true me,
i put you firmly above the bible, in you i did believe,
i believed the lie, now i'm high up in the sky, why did you leave?
wished i knew who i should be.

Why can't i have it all figured out,
why can't i learn how to shout,
why must i always be,
another past history?

I'll find a girl, somewhere, somehow,
one way or another my fears will allow,
myself to trust in someone that makes me feel proud,
pay enough attention to her she might as well be called loud.

Why can't i be what i want,
why must i try to peacock and flaunt,
i guess i will give up and be free,
the rest will be unheard of history.