Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Sep 2015
Do you ever feel like you're crumbling down the middle?
The cracks don't show,
But with insects you're riddled.
Tiny little bed bugs eating your insides, Perhaps they too are done with all your lies.
And now they've come back, to eat you *alive.
The things we say come back to bite us eventually.
Lost
Written by
Lost  Hell, Norway
(Hell, Norway)   
963
   Sisilia, Neex and NV
Please log in to view and add comments on poems