Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Nov 2013
You ask me why do I want to die?
Would you enjoy sitting alone to cry?
A pile of bottles, to remind me of my sorrow
Diminishing my hopes for a brighter tomorrow
So I'll smoke, maybe have a drink or more
Praying it makes me feel better than before
But synthetic happiness only lasts so long
Until my esteem requires another pull from the ****
It's funny how my low point sends me so high
So please excuse me, I late to go die
Written by
Christopher Habla  Georgia
(Georgia)   
448
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems