poem (tell me if it’s good or if i need to work on things)

the sky was purple this morning when i thought about you but the leaves will always stay the same. i’ll never know my makers name, he won’t pay any mind. you won’t pay any mind. maybe i’ve been too unkind. tell me what you think about me please and i’ll speak my mind. and your love for me is a door that swings back and forth. I’m in and out and picking skin. stand there and act oblivious and i’ll blame myself for the world not turning round. you’re a statue with one conscious thought. and you’ll lie to me one last time, claiming to know what makes a forest burn. and you see me all the same. only knowing nothing and not wanting to learn.