I lost the love of my life to nobody;
just imagine how agonized i feel;
i sit there getting told what you say about me;
and how crazy i am;
you make fun of me for slitting my wrists;
you laugh at my poems;
you through my first poem book in a river;
how do you think that makes me feel;
whats lost?
my feelings and burning sensation of the truth;
he thinks people that hurt themselves and write poetry are crazy;
do you think its true?
all these people are just letting their emotions fluster out of them in a different, beautiful form;
it doesnt even matter how much he means to me;
its like he was never there;
sometimes i would if i died;
if he would even care;
whats lost is my poem book;
its drowning in the river;
another part of me is dead;
no where to get these feelings out of my head.
