Why does he get to be happy? when he should be knee-deep in regret and repenting from calling me crazy and lazy and blaming any fault on me.
Why does she deserve what I built? when all I got was a botched love or something worse than that compelling me to feel as if I don't deserve anything still ringing true from his distorted, gnarled logic.
Why can't I have what they have? I guess the joke's on me once again and I'm left being haunted by flashes of him in the kitchen rendering me feeling all or nothing overwhelmed or numb.
Why does he get to be happy? and surely sleep soundly at night next to her and dream of the future that I once dreamt of too, pried loose from my unsteady hands.
It's a cotton blouse and a frilly dress A pair of cats eye specs That are darer in price than they are as a whole But for these gorgeous things I'd sell my soul Slinky malinky leg wax Hair extensions and wearing Max That gives money a whole new meaning My pocket is empty but my wants are teaming
I have always loved to write It is a passion and a burden These flames that reside within me Burn me raw with envy The talent I see in others Rips me apart with yearning For more I crave to be beautiful In these sentences I string But these words do not feel real They are but letters on a page Easily destroyed and forgotten Yet the works of others are timeless They exist in another dimension One that does not age For they are the gods of poetry And I am only a mortal That dreams to be in the heavens