"ingores" poems
I'm the girl who wants to be someone else
Who wants fame just to be loved
Who falls in love with the wrong people
And ingores the right people
The girl who tells herself this year will be different
And it never is
The girl who acts tough but is the most sensitive girl you'll ever meet
Who is embarrassed of her hobbies because she fears she won't fit in
The girl who is called unique but doesn't believe them
Aug 22, 2014
Aug 22, 2014 at 4:32 PM UTC
I'm in the nation's capital
And it feels like the centre of the universe
Everyone drinks their coffee and ingores
each other, the cold nipping at the
skin exposed slightly beneath their sweaters
Is that where it all happens?
Do the things they decide there affect me?
The buildings' windows are transparent
WANTED signs, and I look up at them
somewhat admirably
I don't know whether I love or hate
this country
It is either great or evil, and the extremes
polarise further with my continuing to see
people people people people
They crowd the centre of the universe
-c.j.
Nov 22, 2014
Nov 22, 2014 at 2:22 PM UTC