Learn more about other poetry terms

I am not a punching bag, Or the solvent to all your problems. I am not your doctor, your therapist, or your medicine. I can not keep you happy all the time,
My friends are a drug. Each and everyone of them a pill. They block out my reality, And give me a high. But thats all it is…..a high. They don’t change my reality Or well being.
Oblivious and in awe, this is all so new There's a whole world out here, who knew? My poor ass, depressed ass, suicidal ass, A university student determined to pass,
The thing about my garden is, When all the flowers wilt, I cannot find the strength to Plant new ones. -ajh.
You cannot see the beguiling manner of those people You, an amiable person Them, a people of many faces You run past the boisterous crowds Only aiming to please Behind the false perfection,
Subscribe to fakefriends