My Portrait

Irony is sowed upon me.

My stomach begs for food

Which my mind refuses to see.

I lock myself in a cage

Until I choke myself

So I open the doors and windows of rage

And complain about being stuck in a bookshelf

They say my eyes are cute

Why won’t they be so?

Midnight tears clear all the chute

I want to still be innocent

But not that timid girl

With that harmless scent

If I myself don’t understand myself

How can I expect anyone else to do so?

How can a solution itself

Expect within it an answer to grow.

I feel purposeless with a stack of tasks.