he will grip me by my hair,
and drag me outside.
he'll say he's Romeo
and I'm Juliet;
it'll be a lovely suicide.
I start to reflect.
all the men I cherish
are no men at all,
rather, they dissect
the hearts of the perished
and answer to no call.
Sawyer used to tell me
I'm worth more then twenty dollars,
which I've thought about
for twenty years
and will for twenty more.
-
Author:
๐ฆเพเฝฒโ๐ช๐๐ต๐ฎ๐ฒ๐ฐ๐ฑ ๐ฆเพเฝฒ (
Offline) - Published: July 3rd, 2025 23:51
- Comment from author about the poem: compiled some lines from poems in my notebook. most of my thoughts are the same, and my poetry is repetitive, but at least I'm good at something haha. Happy 4th of July!!!
- Category: Gothic
- Views: 12
- Users favorite of this poem: Damaso, Tristan Robert Lange, Cheeky Missy
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Comments3
This poem leaves the reader to fill in the gaps between thoughts and form a feeling a greater understanding. It feels dark somehow and filled with trepidation.
thanks for reading!
A sense they will always be unvalued and particularly by men, nicely written and expressed
Thanks!
You are very welcome
Excellent lines and right their with you, my friend! And you are more than "just" good. You are great! I really enjoy your work! ๐น๐
thank you!
You're most welcome!
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