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Discussion in 'Emotional Romantic' started by Jearry, Mar 2, 2014.

    Jearry New Member

    Member Since:
    Oct 8, 2013
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    It's always a show,
    Why must it be so?
    I hate to look upon all,
    Have them see me meek or tall,
    For if strong they want to chat,
    And if weak they want a story for that.
    Never around them is sacred silence;
    That, I wish for in my repents.
    Around them I fear to be rude,
    For in sorrow I'm socially crude.
    I feel all emotions I must plan,
    For society does me oft scan.
    And I sit upon this hill,
    Which will Monday be borne from mill.
    All the life shaved away
    As they want, I must obey.

    (For context, my sixteenth birthday is this Monday, March 3rd, and I wrote this last Friday, the 28th.)

    Posted By Jearry | Mar 2, 2014

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