It's just a short book of poems I wrote, nothing adventurous or entirely romantic but it's pretty honest and heartfelt

Sitting at wooden tables, in stupid footie pajama
Wanting toys that come out of cereal boxes.
You're always given a bowl and spoon by a woman who smiles too much.
But her smile will mean more than you'll ever appreciate.
Because broken women like her don't eat fruit loops.

Drinking out of sippy cups, fighting over barbies.
Eating syrup in the yellow, summer sun
Little kids like pancakes in the afternoons
And they always share their breakfast foods with the world
Because they love breakfast and the whole wide world’s a rainbow.
Just wish a world like that liked fruit loops.

Then we learn to waste hearts on the youthful and useless.
And girls don't give a damn as long as they have their lipstick.
The preteens are begging for a fix, like dogs for food at the dinner table
Life’s colorful and fun in this high school dream.
We smile like idiots to take colorless photos.
But not even kids who like tasteful photography like fruit loops.

Vomiting in the girls’ restroom.
Excuse the rainbow puke but she's just trying to throw up every last trace of happiness.
Because he said he loved her but that was two tuesdays ago.
Now, Processed sugar doesn't taste as sweet
You only eat to fill up the hole inside of you.
Feel alone? Well of course
Lonely girls like you don't eat fruit loops.

Crying in the doctor's office
Where the nurses are like vampires,
stealing your blood with dull needles
Staring, as they fill up the tubes with red liquid.
You wonder what blood would look like if it were yellow.
Or orange, or violet, or bright green.
Or purple.
A mixture of the blue and red colors that overcome you.
Purple people like her don't eat fruit loops

Frowning at the kitchen table.
You mourn over a kid you used to know.
She was sweet like processed sugar.
She had more meaning than empty calories.
She was a color
She was a spark
She was alive but then everyone else grabbed plastic spoons and scoped her brains out.
It was a funny way to dead
Unfortunately, dead people like that don't eat fruit loops.

wearing stupid, rainbow pajamas, you're staring down a bowl.
The colors in the milk burst out at you, alive and sunny.
Yet scary because someday the world will eat you alive.
And chomp on you with milk running down its chin like blood.
A horrible thing to think about, nevertheless  you take your spoon and shovel the colors of the rainbow into your mouth.
The sugar specks are skipping up to your brain, fast.
Hyping up your senses.
Filling your vision with red, pink, magenta blurs.
In the haze, you think, I must eat the world before It eats me
And  you're happy little girl,
but happy little girls like you don't eat fruit loops.
They eat the world.

It's not the best but it's the first poem I wrote that i'm actually proud of. Grammer sucks, sorry. (I know I have to work on it XD)