tragic irony.
we spend, so much time
wondering, why we're not good enough,
that we ignore the ones
who think that we are, and more.
we spend, so much time
crying, causewe are nothing
and shy away, from the ones
who think that we are simply, everything
because we are convinced, that their perception
is wrong in every way.
but we don't think the same about ours,
because we often spend time,
killing flowers, because they are beautiful
and we often spend too much time,
thinking of ways, to kill ourselves
because we think that we are not.