Thoughts of Life

Most of my poems are all the same, they all consist of anger, love, hurt, and pain. I get so tired of hearing my name. Mighty this and mighty that, i'm they're slave and that's a fact. Why can't people keep it real and say exactly what it is they feel? Why are people so so fake? Why are lies all they make? Little do they know that while they're denying; all they're lies are multiplying and as time goes by my trust for them continues dieing, i always keep track of the times they're caught lieing. Trust is a major factor in my life and when betrayed i cut you out of my life. Why are people so blind to see that there is so much more inside of me. They're so dumb and blind that they fail to realize that i to have a mind. People don't know that i like to read and write, they see me as the one who likes to fuss and fight. When i die, all they will say is that i was funny all the time and fail to say i had a troubled mind. They will remember my actions and forget my words, they will remember my hair and forget my fear, they'll remember all the silly things about me and forget that all i wanted was just to be noticed as the real me. So who is mighty? Mighty is a girl who has a smart,intelligant mind and people don't realize that i'm one of a kind and another like me noone will ever find. So when you meet me please be kind, i have a delicate heart and a wondering mind.