Screams Of A Spoilt Child

There is no time for the pillow to dry,
There is no hope, that's why I cry.
There is no future for all I see.
          There are no perks,
                                         To being me.

I would talk to myself if I had anything to say
I would comfort myself, did I think there was a way
                                  To stay sane.
But what to believe?
All I can hear are the screams
                             Of a spoilt child.

I would tell you the facts, but what about that?
I would hide in your arms,
But that's where the monster lies.
I would get me a life.
I would get me a dream.
Yet that's where the monsters breed.

I could forget my hopes could I forget the pain.
I would hide in the dark, did it stop me from feeling.
I would tell you my love.
I would tell you my needs.
But I can tell you right now
That you'll just hear a spoilt child screaming.

depressionfearlove's tempestvaginismus

◄ Real Lows And Artificial Highs

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Comments

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Aviva Rifka Bhandari

Fri 7th May 2021 23:54

Thank you to those who have clicked 'Like' for this poem 💐

I know this is quite a dark and depressing poem but actually I do like the lightly varying rhythm of this one.

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