Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jul 2018
I'm so ******
I can hear the voices
\but maybe/  \This is what I was told I'm used to/
   \cause I /
     \know/
       \Oh /
         \I / know I don't derserve to have a choice
                 and my epistemology
                       to other proles
                                    inspired, and they listened
                                          When they felt like
They never had control
But it's all refuse of the mind
   You I never proclaimed the truth
      But I'm so ******* hateful
           (The voices came back and....)
         ******* IT, THERES NOTHING ELSE THAT I CAN DO
The roof the fiddler played on
Written by
The roof the fiddler played on  28/M/Minnesota
(28/M/Minnesota)   
127
   Cné
Please log in to view and add comments on poems