When I write,
It's not so he can read it.
It's not for my friends to read
It's not for my teachers
My acquaintances
My enemies.
I don't want
People to see me.
I don't want
People to read this.
If it's people I don't know
But trust more than people I do know anyway
Then, why not?
But if you share it
With someone I do know
It kills everything in me.
The reason I write
Is to vent.
So I vent about the people I know.
That means
I never want them
To read this.
I think
I might miss this.
I might miss your smile
And the way it feels when you laugh
And
How we could talk about anything.
I might miss
Those precious few minutes spent together
Every morning
The second I feel
Used or neglected
Abandoned or judged
Hated or pitied
Is the second I slip away.
Even if it's in my own head
And not real.
Even if you were trying to love me.
There's a moment in my mind
A calm before the storm
The part of the song where we all fly
Before plunging down to darkness.
There's a moment when I can feel my blood
Comments
Very relatable.
Thanks!
Log in or register to post comments.