Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Feb 2013
sitting in this room
of a place i've known since birth,
i think

walking through the town
filled with people, all the same,
i think

the ghost of your lips on mine
as we listen to music to keep us high,
i think

i think of what's good for me
and i know that it is not here,
not very morally sound,
and i don't give a ****.
Written by
Cass
Please log in to view and add comments on poems