I don't know how you're feeling
I don't relate to you
You don't know how I'm feeling
I am not just like you
There's only one true person
Who really knows who we are
But even sometimes we forget
I write with emotion
Morbid and very much twisted
I'm not trying to impress you
Or be like you
I'm just writing my life away
In my sick fantasy
That plays in my mind
A horror film
With me in every death scene
Never good enough
Always running away
Always trying to impress myself
Always failing to do so
I became my mind's worst enemy
Ever since then I was done
I just wanted life to be done
Done trying and never being enough
But now I smoke
So I can't think
With no thinking
There's no disapproval
So I still don't relate to you
I don't need a label
But if I did have one
For the time being
That label would be
"Alive"
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My Poems
My poems or short stories, will be different than any other. Maybe more horror, I don't know, what do you think? Comment. Don't Steal. Don't Copy.
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