You suspect I can speak to you
When you want to slit my throat
I can see it in your eye
It’s your aura I guess.
You sit next me
as some sort of insult presume
I can’t pinpoint why you speak
Stop insulting me
You hate my guts and yet you speak
I talk back
Nothing sounds right
Nothing is right, you hate me.
-
Author:
Little Duck Man (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: August 5th, 2022 08:51
- Comment from author about the poem: mmh
- Category: Friendship
- Views: 14
Offline)
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