(no subject)
Currently I am within mixed emotion. I am unsure of how I feel, Why I feel or what I feel.
I am unsure whether it is love hate or all of the feelings bunched into one, but I know that
I do want love. I am as stina would phrase it "starving for affection" and to tell you the truth
it is very possible, because everyday I go and I see people that I know of, know well, or dont
even know of. Everyday I see or think about a person I would like to be with even though I do
not let it be heard I do feel it and very much so desire it. I enjoy hanging out with my friends
and doing almost anything with them, and even though Im outspoken most of them time around
them there is still alot that I hold back because as I have grown up, I have become afraid, of voicing
my true desires.
Everytime I write a poem, you think I would cry
because it is usually about why you would lie or the right time to die,
Even when its a happy poem, you see right through,
to the false sence of reasoning behind the question why.
When you read a journal I write, you might think its a waste of time,
but in reality, Im doing it to waste time.
Everytime I write a poem, I try to reason with myself,
about the bullshit reasons you give me as to why,
why you werent there when you said you would be.
why you said you could when you couldnt,
and why it is you must lie.
This poem is just like the rest,
it is about my life a false attempt to lie.
I am unsure whether it is love hate or all of the feelings bunched into one, but I know that
I do want love. I am as stina would phrase it "starving for affection" and to tell you the truth
it is very possible, because everyday I go and I see people that I know of, know well, or dont
even know of. Everyday I see or think about a person I would like to be with even though I do
not let it be heard I do feel it and very much so desire it. I enjoy hanging out with my friends
and doing almost anything with them, and even though Im outspoken most of them time around
them there is still alot that I hold back because as I have grown up, I have become afraid, of voicing
my true desires.
Everytime I write a poem, you think I would cry
because it is usually about why you would lie or the right time to die,
Even when its a happy poem, you see right through,
to the false sence of reasoning behind the question why.
When you read a journal I write, you might think its a waste of time,
but in reality, Im doing it to waste time.
Everytime I write a poem, I try to reason with myself,
about the bullshit reasons you give me as to why,
why you werent there when you said you would be.
why you said you could when you couldnt,
and why it is you must lie.
This poem is just like the rest,
it is about my life a false attempt to lie.