What precisely am I suppose to think
When I can’t catch my breathe
And my hands
Don’t feel a thing
For I am not beautiful
I am not pretty
Keep your filthy hands away
What am I suppose to do
When i'm drowning inside myself
And my head
It wont stop hurting
Damn these migraines
For I am not beautiful
I am not pretty
Keep all of your thoughts to yourself
What was it I was supposed to be seeing?
For I’m blind to my mind’s own inner eye
And my senses
Are not working so well
Kinda tipsy turvy
For I am not beautiful
I am not pretty
Keep all of your feelings inside
What is going on in my life?
Someone please inform me
Because I can not understand
All these feelings and fears
They’re tearing me apart inside
I’ve been ripped to my very being
To the fiber of who I am
For I am NOT beautiful
Nor am I pretty
And because of that fact
I lay here all alone tonight
Sleeping with my horrors
And all my draining sorrows
And I wait, praying for the morrow
If only the sun could rise a little faster
For my heart wont last that long
I can't wait that long. . .
For i am not beautiful
And i am not pretty
I am simply myself
I am nothing
© 2006 GothicBlack
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Printed from www.DarkPoetry.com/dp/8/84945 on Monday October 06th, 2008 07:56 AM
Certain elements © 1996-2008 Matthew Steven (matts.org)
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