Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
Every morning, When the clock strikes 5, I get up and sit outside. I count the people that walk past me, I hear the words that they speak. It makes no sense, Why people want other's pain, If I were them, I'd not feel sane. That is why I wish for a peaceful meal, And a day that wouldn't involve kills. I want to reach home, Without a hole in my heart, And want to stay instead of falling apart. Is it so hard, To find what I desire? I think it is, Because I always feel tired. When the people finally go away, I stand up and go inside my 'home', praying to make it alive today.
0
Dec 19, 2017
Dec 19, 2017 at 7:13 AM UTC
My home
Every morning, When the clock strikes 5, I get up and sit outside. I count the people that walk past me, I hear the words that they speak. It makes no sense, Why people want other's pain, If I were them, I'd not feel sane. That is why I wish for a peaceful meal, And a day that wouldn't involve kills. I want to reach home, Without a hole in my heart, And want to stay instead of falling apart. Is it so hard, To find what I desire? I think it is, Because I always feel tired. When the people finally go away, I stand up and go inside my 'home', praying to make it alive today.
Thestrugglingpoet
Written by
Dec 19, 2017
Dec 19, 2017 at 7:13 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem