I want you to know that I'm weak.
I'm weak in the knees when I see you, and I'm weak mentally when you say my name.
I'm easily frustrated.
You see I don't tolerate people well, they're all too plastic and/or obnoxious for my liking.
I can't talk to others well ether.
In the mornings when your mother drives me home I don't know know what to say, and when you're around your friends I'm lost.
Writing is my escape, it sets me apart from you others.
I write about you and your cute nose, my weird obsessions, and sometimes even my past.
You could break me a million times and I still couldn't find a flaw in your smile.
I worry that I'm not good enough 24/7.
I'm feeble like a feather,
sometimes I feel as if I'm the feather and you're the whole bird, but love, don't take this piece wrong, for I, the feather, am honoured and utterly astonished that a perfect bird like you would pick up a wounded feather, as I.
Please, bear with me.
I'm such a ****** person, but I'll clear your clouds every morning if you let me.
i hate it when people take my poetry literally