Roses are dead.
Roses are dead. Violets are doomed.
These are all the reasons,
These are all the reasons, As to why I hate you.
I spew anger and jealousy,
I spew anger and jealousy, rather than gentle, love filled poetry.
I twist and tuck my skin, trying to hide the body I allowed to be defiled.
My confidence nose-dives, doubt surfacing at every positive thought.
I deserve nothing, you told me.
Because you have everything.
While I suffer with nothing.
When in reality,
When in reality, I drown from my everything, giving in to the nothing.
Hoping it can save me from the worry.
Of amounting to anything.