A pack, a pack for you and me
Mainly for me
I'll chew it for you
7 more hours until I'm through with this news
But as I reach for a piece,
All I get's the blues.
******' last piece,
Man,
My last taste of silence
My last taste of solitude
I chew to black out the yous
and the whos
Who am I really, when there's none left to chew
******' last piece, what the **** am I supposed to do?
****, ******, burn it all in hell
I've nothing left to say, that would say it as well.
I've got no sanity left
I don't know who I am
Delving into darkness,
That last piece, again!
I'm reminded of my shame
I'm reminded of the agony
Where's my last ******' piece?
I swore it was in front of me.
I'm writing poems based off of suggestions on Tumblr, Twitter, and Facebook. The prompt was: The existential crisis of running out of gum one hour into an eight hour shift.