Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jul 2014
Why am I still trying?
I work so hard to just keep this rhythmic breathing up..
I'm tired, I'm sick, and I'm dying.
I think I have finally had enough.
The pills are in the drawer,
And I'm sure they'd handle it all just fine.
This time they wouldn't think I was a joke,
If they found me in my clothes asleep.
dark roads beyond
Written by
dark roads beyond
292
   Isabella
Please log in to view and add comments on poems