Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
All we have left are diversions, To pass the time. A pantomime reality, Without function. Without meaning. Those jokes we shared, Cutting the world down to size. They aren't funny anymore. That forgotten t-shirt — The stray intimacies of lovers — The lacerations in my skin — The blood that I spill — The ambulance ride — The last face I'll ever see — You. My favourite girl, My favourite hell. Io fei gibetto a me de le mie case. QUIT TORTURING YOURSELF. QUIT TORTURING YOURSELF. QUIT TORTURING YOURSELF. Quit torturing yourself. Quit ******* trturing yrself. Quit trtrng urslf. Quit. Quit. ...
0
Dec 15, 2014
Dec 15, 2014 at 7:02 PM UTC
Diversions
All we have left are diversions, To pass the time. A pantomime reality, Without function. Without meaning. Those jokes we shared, Cutting the world down to size. They aren't funny anymore. That forgotten t-shirt — The stray intimacies of lovers — The lacerations in my skin — The blood that I spill — The ambulance ride — The last face I'll ever see — You. My favourite girl, My favourite hell. Io fei gibetto a me de le mie case. QUIT TORTURING YOURSELF. QUIT TORTURING YOURSELF. QUIT TORTURING YOURSELF. Quit torturing yourself. Quit ******* trturing yrself. Quit trtrng urslf. Quit. Quit. ...
Because it's just that ******* easy.
mrmonst3r
Written by
Dec 15, 2014
Dec 15, 2014 at 7:02 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem