I am not perfect

Do not call me perfect
for you do not see what’s inside me
You don’t know how hard it is to calm my demons
Do not call me perfect
for you do not know my insecurities
You don’t know why I stay up late at night
Do not call me perfect
for you do not know why I cry myself to sleep
You don’t know how hard it is for me to live
Do not call me perfect unless you get to know the real me, the things I’m scared to show and the thoughts that are almost killing me

She Writes About You

She writes about you
For her you’re the perfect subject
The one who makes her writing true
The one whom her heart can’t object
She writes about you
The happiness, pain, joy and sorrow
She writes about you
She writes about you like there’s no tomorrow
But have you ever wonder why she always write about you?
You hurt her too much, too much that you became the ink to her pen
You hurt her too much, too much that you became the letters to her words
You hurt her too much, too much that you became the paper to her notebook
You hurt her too much, too much that she can’t think of anyone or anything else to write about but you
Someday, she’ll stop writing about you.
Someday, she’ll realize that there’s more to write about than the negativism you caused her
Someday, she’ll wake up and feel that you’re not worth it
Someday, she’ll stop writing about you cause she’ll write about someone else.

 

2/21/16