by Harold Millican


Sometimes I think to myself that I am too easy
Too sensitive, too little,
Too forever late
Easy to disappoint
Easy to frustrate

I’m just too easy
Too loving, Too caring
I care too much for the people that constantly hurt me easily

I’m too easy, too lean
Too mean at the wrong times
I’m too hard to please
To nagging, and too fretful
Like a stagnant disease
But I’m too sorry
Because I’ve been so hurt that its all I know
So that’s why I am a merry me
Either too depressed or too happy


Posted on 01/13/2008
Copyright © 2020 Harold Millican

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