Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
May 2018
Hanging my head heavy,
like a boulder.
Sick and tired of you,
So I get on with life
With a cold shoulder
And a blunt between
My middle and index fingers.
I don’t have time
To listen to your reasons.
Your breath smells,
Like Grey Goose, it lingers.
Man get it together because
Were losing you,
And we don’t know what to do.
You’re drifting away,
Keep treating yourself
Like this, you’ll end up
6 below one day.
I need you to explain
Just what it is
Playing with your brain,
‘Cuz if you keep acting this way,
Someone’s gonna
Pop your head like
President JFK.
Here,
I’ve got a blunt
To ease the pain,
Take a hit of it, and maybe you’ll
Remember who you were,
Maybe our names.

Taking a hit to alleviate the pain.
Take a hit, my **** taste like
A souffle.
sleeper green, you’ll wake up
In a daze,
I know what you’re
Dealing with is only a phase,
So show me a glimpse of you,
A replay of the good ole days,
Before we lost you in all of this craze.

Stop with the delays, the betrays and cliches,
It’s all a game that we don’t want to play
Because you did it to yourself,
You left your life a maze with no
Clear way out, so don’t drop your head and pout
Your sorrows away.
It’s a hard knock life
For those of your kind, you watched
Your life fade away, decline,
With only a glimmer left to shine.
We’re at the end of this road,
The ball is in your court. Tell me,
What are you going to to this time?
Whatcha Gonna do?
Shayn Powell
Written by
Shayn Powell  19/M/Oklahoma City, Oklahoma
(19/M/Oklahoma City, Oklahoma)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems