Crappy Old Poems Vol 2: Electric Boogaloo
One Or Two.
I am one, being with you makes me two.
Does being with you increase my worth?
Does two have to be more important than one?
Am I better off alone?
Am I better off with you?
All I want is answers, all I want is normalcy.
One or Two. just a binary?
Why not three, or four.
Why one or two.
All I want is answers,
One or two.
Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis
A long word,
I wish I knew you for longer, but I don’t.
A word means more than our time, but it doesn’t.
See how easy words can be warped?
The title can be warped just as well.
Can we be warped?
Is our love warped?
I hate the warped ideas reining me in this world.
Do you think i’m warped?
Do I?
Help. although, i’ll be okay in the end.
Pending.
Love song.
Expectations.
What did you expect…?
Love, correct?
Your expectations for me are higher than expected.
This is a poem, not a love song.
Expectations, are our ruler.
Expectations are our hell.
Expectations are our suffering.
Don't expect a love song, now.
Why?
Why, I ask that often.
Why do I love?
Why do I love you?
Why do I want to know you.
Why do I want to be like you.
Why do I feel this, when I want to be myself.
Whenever I'm with you, it goes away.
Why do you inspire me, why do you make me feel like you.
Why are you my reason?
Why.
Please. why.
Eyeballs.
I saw your eyeballs in the morning, staring into mine.
Is that weird?
I always think… your eyes.
They're beautiful.
I think that, yes I do.
I know it's probably weird,
but it's a nice thing to look at, because…. they're yours.
And I like that.
Consumption.
I went outside today.
I cried, it was cold.
Damn it. it's so damn cold.
I feel all my sins crawling on me. it's so damn cold.
Please help me, god.
I feel the cold growing on me.
Please help me god.
It's eating me.
Please.
Mercy.
I want to die.
Please kill me.
I feel the cold eating away.
Help me.
Broken Leg, Broken Morale.
Broken leg.
Broken morale,
As my bones break, so does my mind.
A parallel conjured deep within my neurons.
It's odd. I chuckle, but that ends with pain.
The physical pain leads the charge, as the guilt stays behind.
Slowly burning and grazing my skin.
Leaving the occasional kiss before leaving and burning me again.
The guilt is always looming, however.
With my broken leg, comes a broken morale..
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
