if imperfection was an art
i would be a masterpiece.
admired by everyone.
instead of being skipped by.
while others smile and talk
i sit at an empty table
and eat all of my sorrows away.
to make sense of all this mess
is way too much for me.
to face my inner weakness
i need help.
but what is left when you cant trust anyone to help you?
do you feel sad?
well i do to and i cant say it'll go over