Sick Minded

One day, I'll be different.

I won't speak like I do now.

I'll be a better person, I guess,

but I'm sick of changing,

 

Deranging something I've actually

Learned to like, why do we have

To change all the time, why do I

Have to lose my last drops of innocence,

 

Haven't I lost enough? Haven't I

Learned enough about dirty, dirty

Wipe my hands on my white shirt

Lost innocence.

 

I'm considered sick-minded

Because I find it all funny sometimes

When I'm in a certain mood.

I'll tell you something,

 

I'm dreading growing up

Because I don't want to

Have sex, or alcohol,

Or drugs, thugs,

 

Am I still sick minded to you?

I hope to hell not.

This poem is about: 
Me

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