I used to write about you,
Now I write about me.
You were obsessed with yourself,
But it seems the world agrees

For my poetries are unread
My words wilt down
I am sick of watering my verses
Only for them to
Turn frail and brown

Unnoticed
In the background
Don't wake them up
they wont be kind
They somehow
Grew their own mind

They shuffle and jolt,
Unraveling slow,
Transforming into something
I no longer know

What’s a mind without a heart,
If not a cruel embrace?
You gave birth to these words—
So don’t blame me for their grace.