Boo Hoo...


Boo Hoo...

To be so freakin' insecure-what a waste of air,

I always seem to disappoint, and no one seems to care.

Feeling like a foreigner, no matter where I go,

I thought I once deserved a chance-I guess it isn't so.

There's one thing I know how to do-annoy those in my life,

God, what a shitty mother, daughter, friend, and wife.

Always like a hamster on a stationary wheel,

Physical pain-it seems to be the only way I feel.

Jumping out a window-now that sounds like a solution,

I'm sure I won't get blamed for death-just for the pollution.

I wish that I could run away-by taking lots of drugs,

Or maybe get amnesia-getting beat up by some thugs.

I could also drink myself to death-by climbing in a bottle,

Or jump in front of a speeding car, fully on the throttle.

Or even go to sleep quietly with a bit of CO2,

Or dangle from the rafters-until I turn all blue.

But the sickest thing about my life is that I have to live,

So others can take and take and take 'til there's nothing left to give.

See, I believe I have to live so I can truly suffer,

I'm opting for the full impact-death is but a buffer.

So if you haven't got the picture, I don't think much of Missy,

But rarely breathe a word of this; the world is much too busy.

To hear about all my boo-hoo's, or how I wish I'd die,

Or to see the silent constant tears from my heart, my soul, my eyes.

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Angellightwolf1 commented on Boo Hoo...


I was surfing the home page reading writes as they came and one led me to the title of this and so I had to read. Sad but for the life of me this write makes me giggle... I like it for the honesty and the smiles it gave me. Thanks!

MountainWoman commented on Boo Hoo...


Ow. The pain icomes write through. Words are cathartic for me, are they for you?



very cathartic...sometimes though it's like leaving scars if that makes sense.

SClark20xx commented on Boo Hoo...


Shouldn't this be hate?



how so?

In science one tries to tell people, in such a way as to be understood by everyone, something that no one ever knew before. But in poetry, it's the exact opposite.

Franz Kafka (1883-1924) Czech writer.

Qsangel’s Poems (47)

Title Comments
Title Comments
spaceman 0
either way.... 1
ReStLeSs 0
Rubble 0
Weeping Soul 0
Can't... 0
Voiceless.... 2
Nothing More 0
The Bleeder 3
My Heart 0
Desecration 0
So I do Nothing... 1
whispers 0
the candle 1
death of a soul 0
unwritten 0
Dammit! 0
closed 0
building 0
my demons 0
waiting for it to happen 0
to the point 0
love is like 2
damaged 0
sometimes... 0
true self 0
Shouldn't 0
without--i wrote this when i was 16 2
hmmmmmmmmmmm 0
I will 1
Ominous me 2
the naive cynic 1
the 'un' me 2
praise hurts her... 1
Inquiry 0
My War... 3
My.... 0
mind........ 1
Image.. 0
Boo Hoo... 3
PANIC... 0
I wonder... 0
53 truths about me 1
Novacaine 0