A boy in my class once said,
Poetry: taking a turn for the worst.
And if that's not the truth,
I don't know what is.
My friends think I'm stupid,
Cause I make bad decisions
Purposely.
I do things that will hurt me.
All for the sake of my poetry.
Because I don't know of a poet
Who always writes
Of glorious sunrises,
Magnificent rainbows,
And happiness.
I know I don't.
I write of
Days of melancholy,
Lonely sorrow.
And bad decisions.
For I know of nothing else.
I write of buried dreams,
Of crushed hopes.
I write of truths.
I write of life.
For I know of nothing else.
©5braincelz
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