tararara.. a butterfly is flying around my laptop i think. or maybe its just me. <br /> <br />yeah, probably its just me. <br /> <br />weird. <br /> <br />probably because i'm also weird. <br /> <br />that's what people have been telling about me <br /> <br />behind my back, behind closed doors. <br /> <br />and i pretend not to listen <br /> <br />though i hear <br /> <br />and i pretend i'm not hurting <br /> <br />though it kills me inside. <br /> <br />and every night i look at my computer <br /> <br />blogging my world <br /> <br />my heart is breaking <br /> <br />always breaking, never healed. <br /> <br />how i long for the day <br /> <br />when i won't care about anything <br /> <br />when i won't get hurt <br /> <br />because of people who don't care <br /> <br />when pain is just a waning <br /> <br />shadow of the moonlit moon. <br /> <br />but still i hear their voices <br /> <br />and i see their lies <br /> <br />i can't help but pretend <br /> <br />to be happy <br /> <br />while my heart dies. <br /> <br />friends <br /> <br />friends lost <br /> <br />when i'm alone <br /> <br />always, always alone <br /> <br />solitary figure <br /> <br />walking on her own. <br /> <br />behind these walls <br /> <br />i built <br /> <br />a dying doll <br /> <br />grasp <br /> <br />grasp the vines <br /> <br />but it's all poison lies <br /> <br />bloody grave <br /> <br />of <br /> <br />heartbreak <br /> <br />death <br /> <br />and <br /> <br />goodbyes.<br /><br />Izobelle Pulgo<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/i-don-t-want-to-hear-myself-think/
