Fruitless Poem by angel lockheart

The pain that it causes me, waiting for you,
Someone to except me, to help me to heal,
From what people have said,
About how I’m so weird,
& because of that; it makes me so wrong.

I dress too different,
My hair’s curly not straight,
My skin is too white,
My eyes are too big.

I read too many books,
I’m happy too much,
I sing random songs,
I dream way to much.

I see too much good in people.
I can’t hold a grudge,
I trip over nothing,
I bite my lip way too much.

These flaws that I have,
Make me who I am,
Now I just have to wait,
Till someone will except them.


But it seems almost fruitless

To hope.