The King

Every high school girl has drama in her life. This poem is about my drama.

You're a king,

the king of dream destroyers,

happiness crushers.

Isn't that what you wanted?

​

You wanted to be a great one,

tricked your mind into believing

such a horrid lie.

Even more awful still was how you got there.

​

Strayer, you've lost yourself.

Completely prosthetic, how pathetic.

You're just another disgusting talker,

hiding behind your hand.

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Bastardizing the innocent,

killing of the last bit of purity they have

left. And this brings you joy?

Can you not even feel anymore?

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Have you no sympathy?

No empathy? Why can't you

feel what we feel, see what

we see? I feel so sorry for you.

​

Because you'll just never understand what it's like.