July 15, 2014

poem

people always tell me, "sorry but i have to leave,"
and as they walk away they sneak a laugh into their sleeve.
is it something that i did
or is it something that i said
or is it something that i didn't say but thought of in my head
and if you truly are a psychic you will put me in my place;
but if you aren't, please tell me why, was there something on my face?

maybe it's an eyelash?
i hear those are for luck,
on your cheek just waiting for a breeze to pick them up.
i wish i was an eyelash so that i could float away,
and eyelashes they never have weird things upon their face.
or maybe it's beside that! i never liked my nose,
my parents, they have small ones
but mine grows, and grows, and grows, it's gross.

i hope it's not my lips or i'll need my money back,
i paid someone a lotta cash to make 'em nice and fat.

2 comments:

  1. hahahah funny, but i don't like poems that rhyme.

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