Not This Week

Not This Week

We are supposed to be always there
We are supposed to at least care
We are supposed to wipe each other’s eyes
We aren’t supposed to make each other cry

We are supposed to be each other’s friend
And during hard times, we are to comprehend
We are supposed to be each other’s relief
And not be the reason for such grief

We are supposed to put each other first
And tolerance’s supposed to be a must
When one is down, the other should remain near
And not say “We won’t talk, my friends will be here”

We are supposed to be many things
At times successful or holding by a string
We are those things of a willing heart
But forget this week cause this week we’re not

That hurt

That hurt

Poem Space

Esse poema foi escrito há uns bons meses. Uma pessoa me prometeu algo naquela época e, um ou dois dias antes do compromisso, essa pessoa disse que não poderia comparecer simplesmente porque essa pessoa esqueceu do nosso acordo e combinou uma outra coisa no mesmo dia. Não prometa algo que você não irá cumprir, simples!

Com vocês, THAT HURT.

Those two words penetraded deep into my being

They cut me inside and I was left bleeding

They kept echoing, on and on

They kept hurting for so long

I couldn’t say a word

In my throat there was a knot

It hurt so much when you said: “I forgot”