Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jul 2010
Sitting at this leather couch
spilling out my mind
as it drips upon the floorΒ 
from every minute of my time wasted.
I'm wondering what you're thinking;
if it's me that's been crazy
for commiting this so-called crime
I'm jaded.
You're judging me pretending to respect me.
A folder thick with penmanship
You diagnose my intelligence
A steady flow of consciousness,
"I was sick of her *******!
I was sick of the relationship!"
It's just a subtle mood swing
And that **** was so controlling
I wanted out.
So you jot your ******* notes
And cross your sloppy T's,
But you won't get the best of me
You're pills are not my remedy.
I stand by my insanity
You can claim I'mΒ unstable
You can claim I'm in denial,
As I choose to ******* leave,
Make sure you make note in your file!
Copyright Christopher Rossi, 2010
Written by
Christopher Rossi
   Christopher Rossi
Please log in to view and add comments on poems