I wrote you countless poems,
Yet, you left them unread,
Am a fool for writing those metaphors,
I just can't endure it,
Can’t get it off my head.
I wish you could read these pieces,
Yet, you refuse to read it,
I took every little chances,
You keep running too far for me to reach you.
These poems are now worthless,
I wish I know you are not into it,
Now am filled with Sadness and boredom.
Writing poems for you just made me look so desperate.
This is the last poem that
I will be writing to you,
Am tired of making another piece for you,
I won't forget how me and my poems about you had made memories.