How do I feel about this?
I'm just too tired,
I guess.
I can't really blame myself,
Can I?
But I can't blame you too.
You're perfect.
My life—
I'm having trouble
Organizing my—
Thoughts.
Thousands of drafts have been rewritten,
Over and over inside my head;
But I can't let myself put it on paper,
Simply because—
It's not perfect.
You're perfect.
I guess in the end, I'm ruined.
iamthe_avatar ©2021
Mar 9, 2021
Mar 9, 2021 at 6:25 PM UTC
How do I feel about this?
I'm just too tired,
I guess.
I can't really blame myself,
Can I?
But I can't blame you too.
You're perfect.
My life—
I'm having trouble
Organizing my—
Thoughts.
Thousands of drafts have been rewritten,
Over and over inside my head;
But I can't let myself put it on paper,
Simply because—
It's not perfect.
You're perfect.
I guess in the end, I'm ruined.
iamthe_avatar ©2021
My first poem after four years.
I'm just tired.
