Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Oct 2019
Twenty seven club is coming up
I'd worry they'd take me out
But fame isn't looking to erupt.
I'm just the one who kept breathing fine,
Walked out of the hospital too many times,
Too many times.
What's the point, I'm searching for purpose
I'm looking for someone to say that I'm not worthless
Stuck pouring from a mangled mind.

I drink too much caffeine,
Keep wearing my skin so thin
They wonder where my bones have been.
Here's my thoughts I jot to sleep
Here's the beep that wakes when morning creeps.
****, my mind's a cloud in weightless air,
Floating up to know why I'm here.

They want a story, here's a life
Pull back my layers and read the chapters
The television pollutes the ones it captures
They asked where's the rapture?
Sir, we are our own rapture.
Look at the mess we left after.
Leave this mess for a generation after.
Dream Fisher
Written by
Dream Fisher  26/M/Arizona
(26/M/Arizona)   
87
   Fawn
Please log in to view and add comments on poems