I’ve accepted:
none of my fantasies
were ever well planned to come true.
To tear someone apart.
To make you sick
knowing that there’s nothing you can do.
I used to create worlds from door creaks,
Watch dust grains dance in front of the curtains.
I searched for my kindergarten teacher’s perfume
in every moment,
tried to see everyone’s soul.
But I never got the birthday cake I wanted
Who cares how I cried last night
how i typed i want to die
knowing I’d still need to unload the dishwasher next morning.
Who cares about my stupid poem?
The bus driver doesn’t ask
about the battle it took to leave the house today.
Every step feels like dragging the sun across the sky
How is it fair to live with such fire inside,
yet feel so cold
Mar 18, 2025
Mar 18, 2025 at 8:02 AM UTC
I’ve accepted:
none of my fantasies
were ever well planned to come true.
To tear someone apart.
To make you sick
knowing that there’s nothing you can do.
I used to create worlds from door creaks,
Watch dust grains dance in front of the curtains.
I searched for my kindergarten teacher’s perfume
in every moment,
tried to see everyone’s soul.
But I never got the birthday cake I wanted
Who cares how I cried last night
how i typed i want to die
knowing I’d still need to unload the dishwasher next morning.
Who cares about my stupid poem?
The bus driver doesn’t ask
about the battle it took to leave the house today.
Every step feels like dragging the sun across the sky
How is it fair to live with such fire inside,
yet feel so cold