Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Aug 2017
Don't try to understand me,
You'll only confuse yourself,
I don't fit in,
No mold can shape me,
I am a question mark on society,
I don't know myself,
So how can anyone else,
I am an oxymoron,
But still so loud in my approach,
Happy yet sad,
Hot yet cold,
I do not know myself..
So how can anyone else?
Yet insane all the same,
Sometimes, I feel like there's parts missing from my brain,
A frankinstein...
A monster come to life.
Made of various parts,
Dead but alive,
Talk about myself?
You want to know who I am?
Where do I start...
During my creation I suppose God misplaced a couple of parts,
There are a few screws loose up top,
And slightly lower down,
Take a sharp turn to the left,
You will notice there is no rhythmic beating in my breast,
I am a Mona Lisa.
Unfinished, but there.
She was missing something,
And so am I....

My heart isn't there.
Written by
Harley Quinzel  London
Please log in to view and add comments on poems