Poems

06/06/15

Everything feels so oddly real.
The night is so still, 
but my heart won't.
The sky cried, 
and so did my eyes. 
Patience is waning
tired of explaining
my existence to everybody.
My brain is rejecting
the happiness I'm projecting 
it makes me sick, 
it makes me wish, to know: 
What am I here for?