Treasure Island

rains of bloom


Touch of pain


Why do you touch me?
you pull my hair when i'm not looking
and touch my back when i don't see
why is it that you touch me?

Your the moths by the windowsill
peering in to see the lights
but i don't understand
because i don't have lights.

I thought i was independent
and then discovered i was anything but
i am demure and quiet, and let everyone push me by
you'd never call me shy, but i could be a giver.

No one cares about me
except when they think they do
but no one ever truly cares
not about anyone.

They say a pretty face doesn't matter
its a stupid lie they want to believe
they want to believe the world is good
but truth is, it is harsh.

I wanted to be a writer
so they had to crush my dreams
because ambition and hope
can't compeat with shallow lives.

Submitted: Sunday, August 18, 2013
Edited: Monday, August 19, 2013

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