October 28, 2017

Too Early To Be Late

In a world full of myself
Everyone loves me

They try and compete
To conquer my heart
In every
Way

In a world full of myself
Anything is easy

Mountains bow, and
Rain stops
By the tip of my fingers

In a world full of myself
Every street and every corner
Is meant to make me
Happy

The hours are made of songs
And moments hum
Like lullabies

In a world full of myself
The skies are my canvas
And the trees read me poems

As I paint the universe
In nothing but
My
Colors

So why is it that
In the world full of myself
I still
Hate
Me?

No comments:

Post a Comment