Little ole' me...
Little ole' me...
Last time I looked right into your eyes I had died a little inside,
Little ole' me,
Brush my cheek,
Brush my cheek,
The room was bright,
Your hands in mine havin' a good time,
Brush my cheek
I was sitting on your lap,
You' were exploring my body,
No words were being said,
But our eyes kept on sayin' I want you,
I want you in my bed
I want you against me
Now God hates me,
God hates me,
But he kept on tellin me that you weren't worth a dime and I should just walk on by...
God loves me.
5 comments:
I struggle with this one but I think it's because you will always be a seventh grader. Lol. How does the speaker feel? Is it supposed to change throughout the poem?
I get what you're trying to portray, but the way you put it, you aren't bringing the reader there. This feeling is deep and eats your bones, you kind of gave a nibble on the skin making me wince and not enjoy reading it. The structure should possibley be revisited as well, how you built it doesn't make much sense. But I have no connection with it, just can tell what you're talking about.
- Darrah
The speaker is hurt, the speaker feels stupid and can only think about the memories they've shared, but then realizes it was all for the best. Lol, I wrote this like a little over a year ago, thats probably why it makes no sense at a point and I have been trying to revise it.
It was originally a song(:
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