You trump?

Sometimes i’m more sentimental than others

Sometimes i’m more temperamental than others

And sometimes i’m a little mental

I know, but at least I admit it

You stand there like you’re perfect

Surely you tell me you are

To me, that is what is imperfect about you

My story goes like this:

Once upon a time

I find my soul

In another

And this brother

Is so full of himself

He cant see that i’m

Perfectly me.

I told you I’ve suffered

In many ways to get

To be here as said above

Regarding this moment as

A masterful experience

Leaves me to not question me

But question you.

Who taught you to see yourself as better than others?


Posted by in Poetry