my flower

i hate how i have nobody real
how everythings gone a different path
different then what i saw atleast
i hate how we are now.
How a day is a blur to me,they always have been
how i breathe and i dont feel,like im not here
but i have no where better to be
all i wanted was a flower,
so fucking pretty but it had thorns
priked me,i bled but
i have it, its potted.
new season though, im waiting for it to bloom
for it to be ready,
i hate how i dont feel comfortable anywhere i am
just out of place,cant sit still
ill be looking around,at the scene,at people
i see im not the same but how, i dont know.
i like sitting next to that flower though,
reading next to it,relaxing.
i hate how nothing seems important to me sometimes
i just dont care sometimes and i dont see why others do
sometimes things just dont effect me
i just dont give a fuck,but i remember to water my flower
that matters.
i hate talking to people too
i mean,i talk alot but
i hate talking to people,i listen and i help
i talk back and i care but
sometimes their words go through me
they just fall and i stare at them
bbroken on the ground
i hate how i dont care,
well, i care about my flower..