Monday, May 4, 2015

Damn. I hate poetry.


You genuinely don't make sense to me.

You want to be my best friend,

until there's someone better around.

You want to be complimented,

so you self-deprecate desperately.

You want to be more than the present,

but you can't get over the past.

You want to be seen as unique,

but you act exactly like your friends.

You want to sympathize,

but you end up in a lake of pity.

You want your past to stop chasing you,

yet you walk in slow motion.

You are a walking, talking contradiction,

and nothing's gonna change until you do.


just you.

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