I’ve already checked all my symptoms and diagnosed myself.Why didn't I finish it?
I sought out cures just for you,
But it just isn’t enough
To appease my diseased mind.
You tell me I’m good enough,
But I see right through your lies when your eyes don’t smile the way your lips do.
What were my thoughts one hundred-and-one days ago?
How should it end?
Why didn't I finish what I started?
Dang.
3 Poetry Snaps:
I really like it so far.
I've got a notebook full of half-written poems. Some of them get a second life, but most of them just stay there in my "poem graveyard".
I hope you can resurrect this one. :)
Hm. It does feel as though it should go on.
Perhaps revisit the main thread (metaphor? theme?) of disease and go from there. I'd like to see how this turns out.
"But I see right through your lies when your eyes don’t smile
the way your lips do."
Beautiful, beautiful line.
Post a Comment