She complains of emptiness
A draw of the blunt, rivers of liquor.
Suppressed & oppressed
"Can death come any quicker?"
Half her soul down the drain
Her noose; preferably a spiked chain..
Drowning in thoughts
fighting last minute and now swimming to shore..
Washed up on land, attempting to stand
But no longer can..
She sits up and sees a wave coming in
Giving up and unable to rise
Arms extended towards the sky
Shutting her eyes
Waiting for the tide to come in..
The end now begins.
Nov 15, 2014
Nov 15, 2014 at 8:51 AM UTC
She complains of emptiness
A draw of the blunt, rivers of liquor.
Suppressed & oppressed
"Can death come any quicker?"
Half her soul down the drain
Her noose; preferably a spiked chain..
Drowning in thoughts
fighting last minute and now swimming to shore..
Washed up on land, attempting to stand
But no longer can..
She sits up and sees a wave coming in
Giving up and unable to rise
Arms extended towards the sky
Shutting her eyes
Waiting for the tide to come in..
The end now begins.
