I'm sorry for whatever I did
to make you not care
I'm sorry for whatever
made me disposable
I'm sorry for
everything I did wrong
I'm sorry
I wasn't good enough

I'm sorry
I'm a horrible person
I'm sorry for
failing you
I'm sorry for whatever
made them better than me
I'm sorry for whatever I did
and am apologizing for.

Along the Valley
Of the Mississippi
Bluffs and Banks
Covered in trees
Whisper barely
In the Summers
Breeze,
Content to hang
In the Humidity
As Fall Comes
With Oranges
Yellows and Russets
The Rustle becomes
A Whisper from
Tree to tree, of
The Coming Soon
Wintery, they say
Their Goodbyes
With Soft Leafy
Sighs, and Promise
In the spring to meet
And for those not there
They will Morn the Passing
Bringing Blooms to their Graves

The Boss is always right
as his boss is certainly too
ever a man of far sight
do as he wants you to do.

Quietly knock his door
and before you show your face
knock just once no more
wait for him to say yes.

Watch when you enter his room
if he is beaming or sad
don't invite your doom
he can be worse than bad.

Don't speak if he's busy at work
stand with patience noiseless
to speak never embark
till he looks straight at your face.

If he asks you your job's progress
be ready with all your tricks
the best way to have him impressed
is to confuse him with statistics.

Just ensure the figures add up right
there's no glaring mistake
if one such comes to his sight
no way you retain your neck.

Answer to the point he asks
give him the master's due
never ever try to assert
impose on him your view.

Not try to prolong the discourse
make it very brief and precise
your logic would always be coarse
to the Boss who is far more wise.

Move back facing your Boss
keep it always in mind
what makes him really very cross
is to see your swinging behind.

Once you are back to your seat
your wounds do secretly nurse
vent your head's all the heat
mutter your choicest curse.

My family life's a sham
We're all  walking on eggshells
There's no bond when you're acting
To keep it all together
One big happy family

This is why
To escape my reality
I turn to my literary haven
A book there for any mood I feel
Momentarily causing me to forget
My seriously  messed up life

The gift of a good book
Is better than any drug out there
It ***** you in *and
Suddenly you're immersed in it
Forgetting the pain  and  sadness
of your own pathetic existence

The love and sincerity  warms you
Causes you to dream and wish; sigh
Whilst the pain and anguish
You can relate to
Never once in an enticing novel do you
Think about the real world around you.

Such is the beauty of a good story
It acts as the perfect medicine
To remedy the hurt in your life.

Picture an anti-social pessimist
who fears her own existence
should probably get a therapist
but that's just not in her element.
always has a Nemesis
She wants to be affectionate
but she feels unwanted;
desolate.