why do you never ask the real questions?

inflorescence, , , , , , , , , , , , , , 2 Comments

why does the “i”
in family mean that
i must be isolated;
a lonely island of one,
was i cursed to never truly
fit in? emotions rage inside
of me; i am my own tsunami.
i wreck havoc, on myself,
those around me-am i a
monster? a staple black sheep,
maybe, just maybe, they will
stop blaming me…
•
•
•

2 thoughts on “why do you never ask the real questions?”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

Gravatar
WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. ( Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. ( Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. ( Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. ( Log Out /  Change )

Cancel

Connecting to %s