Lack of Love

Learn more about other poetry terms

You were the one who held my hand, You scooped me up and protected me.    On nights that I could no longer stand,  You would hold me until my crying stopped.   
Parents. I no longer view this word this way P4r3nT5. Now this is much better A mess of stuff that is put together to make it look, decent.  
I'm falling hard, but it's my time to go.  Be who I'm destined to be they say, but what do they really know.   Senior Year.    I've had enough of this crap, I'm done. 
We are not born with the inclination to hate But throughout the years, we still develop those traits Not because we’re callous but because we’re taught to be that way
(poems go here)
Subscribe to Lack of Love