Everybody is playing the part of someone else
It’s hard to play that of myself
Everything I’ve ever loved I’ve put on a shelf
And for what?
You put me in an envelope and sent me away
I’ve become everything I hated
Ever since that day
I’d rather be alone than answer the phone
I’d rather fold away than listen to their stories
Time has its way of slowing down and speeding up j
Like me
Independent
Unidentifiable in the rainy street
Untraceable as the criminal wishes to be from the crime scene
I am a crime scene
A train wreck :)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem