tragic irony.

we spend, so much time

wondering, why we're not good enough,

that we ignore the ones

who think that we are, and more.


we spend, so much time

crying, causewe are nothing

and shy away, from the ones

who think that we are simply, everything

because we are convinced, that their perception

is wrong in every way.

but we don't think the same about ours,


because we often spend time,

killing flowers, because they are beautiful

and we often spend too much time,

thinking of ways, to kill ourselves

because we think that we are not.


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