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We live in the same home, yet we're so distant.
Talking to you is always too unconsistant.
It's rare to ever see you carefree.
You never ever let topics be!
You're quick to lay on a guilt trip.
Your remarks are ready to nip.
With a cold glare, you stand right there.
For no one you'll show any bit of care.
You're cold hearted,
which is why we've all parted.
Talking to you is a waste of breath,
when there's not any bit of compassion left.
All you ever do is yell and raise your voice,
which makes us hear you without a choice.
And you ask us why we go out of our way to never be around?
There's just no more understanding to ever be found...
©2007-2010 ~Your-Local-Sadist
:iconyour-local-sadist:

Author's Comments

Another poem about my mother. The 'we' that I speak of is my father and I. Oddly enough we share the same views on the fact that my mother is a complete and total bitch. Which is odd. He married her... yet he won't file for a divorce when he has every right to!

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:iconmusie:
I like your poetry D:...
I can't rhyme worth a shit, and I usually end ripping the paper in hhalf, or deleting the text.

--
I WILL BE FORCED TO VERBALLY CASTIGATE YOU IN FRONT OF YOUR PEERS.

:butterfly:The repentance is coming. Did you bring an umbrella?:butterfly:
#Turnabout-Club
:iconyour-local-sadist:
I just cleaned my room. I swear I have three huge bags of ripped up paper. I can sympathize -__-;
Glad you like it ^^

--
Love was never a graceful process...

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June 13, 2007
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