why

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  • Confusion

    why
    why one day you make me smile

    next day you make me frown

    why one day you say you love me

    next day you put me down

    I'm tired of this rollercoaster so I'll have to let you go

    Now your wonder with the blank stare upon your face

    what te hell you done did now.

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    Poetry is either something that lives like fire inside you or else it is nothing, an empty formalized bore around which pedants can endlessly drone their notes and explanations.

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    Gaia88’s Poems (7)

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