I’m just a poet
Feeling cool
And believing I actually have something to say
But everything that comes to mind is just bullshit
I wait for things to come to mind
So I can speak
But nothin really seems to be
What am I suppose to say?
Because no matter what I say
It’s just locked away
Hidden from sight
I try to play it cool
And connect wth the things I say
Or hide true meanings I every other line
Wanting to be recognized
But truly who gives a shit?
Surely not me.
So I’ll just keep writing
Keeping lines to myself
Trying to pretend this is something I can do with my life
When in all reality
I just sit on the toliet
Typing things missals poems on a screen
Hiding away.
Away from the world.
Away from myself.
All alone.
Which simply isn’t true.
It’s a merash
Metaphors placed
Lies with distaste