Maybe this is a mistake.
Maybe I should just hit that button.
Just say,
I don't know,
something.
Something to show I'm sorry.
I don't know what I am for,
but I'm sorry.
Something to show you still care about her.
Because let's be honest,
she didn't leave,
you did.
How can I say anything,
if I don't even know what to think about this.
If I'm just writing down the exact same thing for all these fucking poems.
If all of my writing just looks the exact same now.
If my brain isn't letting me cry,
or hate,
or rejoice,
or feel,
or just, something.
I want to say so much.
You probably know that at this point.
But should I?
You don't deserve that.
You shouldn't have to listen to me be selfish about you.
Wow,
I'm right.
I really am right.
You didn't leave,
like I'm trying to make myself believe.
But I did.
I may act nice,
and say things with a hint of sugar in my voice.
but it turns out I'm the killer.
Or a monster.
Or a robot bird raincloud hail monster.
Or something.
So you should proceed with caution.
YOU ARE READING
maerdyad
PoetryI don't know, I just need to write stuff right now. When you thought you found the one, after all this time, after all the poeple that left, and it turns out, she loves someone else. For when the rain comes, and the hail, and all hell is unleashed, ...
