Dirty but finished- A poem (and a little bit of self realisation worth sharing at the end)

I’m a finished piece of art,A dirty canvasAnd no space left for you to correct it,Not a perfect sculptureBut atleast all my parts are still attached,If you try to make changes, I’ll only fall apart;Too late to mould me into something I’m not,Too late to mould me into something you’d someday want,I’m sorry I hurt

You were wrong- A poem

They say looks are decievingYou’ve proved them wrongYou’re just who you wereLike you said in your songsBut how you betrayed meThen made me feel smallIs weak and patheticAnd I hope that you knowYou were so fucking wrongYou were so fucking wrong And I’m not living in the pastMore than you’re living in the futureSomeday you’ll

A dream that breathes- A poem

There is not a single thing I want more,Than to rest a little before I’m readyBut there’s no rest for me,There is Santa Monica right in front of me,But just a tad out of reach,All I need is one big leap There could be eighty million martians, Conspiring against my innovations,But they’re no match for

Another silly little poem

I don’t believe you when you say I’m just a phone call away, Hate to break it to myself But no one cares if I’m okay, Spent my whole life searching for a sign Maxed all my credit cards, So why am I still waiting in line? Butter me up, With all your fake validations,

A poem from the depth of my personal debris

My mama always saidTo grow upBut I guess I grew downNever listenedNever really caredNow I’m at a crossroadsBut I never even dared To just close my eyesAnd to take a deep breathI’m not a person who dwells in the pastBut sometimes I wonderWhy I always come last Maybe it’s just in my genesBut I never