Is It Me :: Vickbabe :: Original Poetry

Is It Me

Is It Me

Every morning is the same, you rise and move like a runaway train.

With that scowling look upon your face, I have already lost the race.

You destroy my day before it starts, with your angry face and cruel remarks.

Is a happy place that hard to find, is it so difficult to just be kind.

For you it is and I am not sure why, so in the morning I just pass by.

We can’t talk we can’t touch, for you it seems to be too much.

You find joy in being mad, and all it does is make me sad.

Sad for me and sad for you, alas there is nothing I can do.

I awake with a smiling face a happy heart to embrace the day,

Then hear you come into my day, and “poof” you take it all away.