notes app poem entry #3

I'm a dried and crippled flower, I'm a dead leaf in fall. I'll never know why some will pick on you, not the beautiful one - but just to watch you die slowly into the dried crippled flower. 

All people see me as is quiet. that is if they notice my presence at all, but just labeled and obejectfied as a single thing. Nothing more. They crave an explanation if they even bother to care, and I would say there is no reason which is only half true. there is a prethera of reasons but I can't think through. and when that boy who you used to like asks repetitively, you wonder why he even cares yet it irritates you. when you put your trust in someone they betray you, but you continue to be loyal like a sad puppy dog at the feet of its owner - never the one in control. 

Then the boy you used to like says to you the things you don't want to hear, the things you know are true but somehow he can see right through you. you never feel accepted anywhere, that's what he said. and I can't deny, I can lie. I usually don't open up to people, but how did he know? and can I even answer his question.. why am I quiet? I ask myself. Is it that I have nothing to say? or no one to say it to? 

Im so quick to not talk to the ones I love but yet so quick to talk to the ones who I hate. I'm too loyal, I come back over and over after I continue to get hurt and I never learn my lesson. succession turns to apprehension. when you feel happy for once in your life you become afraid and paranoid something bad will happen next, it's only what your used to.