My eyes are burning.
Won't you please
make them stop?
You just walk away;
slam the door in my face.
I hide in the bathroom.
I hate to fight
especially with you.
Why do we?
It's stupid I know,
but it's become a habit
when we're tired and upset.
We push the buttons
until they break off.
Now I grow cold.
Alone in the bathroom.
Looking in the mirror
and hating what I see.















Comments
the breaking off buttons part I found the most interesting
It's ironic, the bit about pushing the buttons until they break off, because in the poem, the buttons being pressed are the ones that end up hurting another person, but when someone reads that part of the poem, you are opushing the right buttons, making us feel what we should be feeling. Pure emotion.
Again, well done
--
I'm happier than I look.
--
This Fire..Will Consume...As The Flames Purify.
--
I'm happier than I look.
--
I'm happier than I look.
--
I'm happier than I look.
--
This Fire..Will Consume...As The Flames Purify.
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