Sometimes it seems,
as if I'm the only one that cares.
I wonder if all I'm told
are lies threaded into dreams.
Sometimes I think,
that I'm the one wrong.
Like everything I say,
is some make-believe.
And I sometimes sit,
to let the time pass.
Silently listening,
to everything I never hear.
Author notes
Wrote this at like...7 in the morning. First attempt at actual poetry in quite some time. Not for contests or anything.
