Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
My head hurts, Lifes a teaspoon of get the hell out, Makes me sick to my stomach, I surround myself with materialistic objects, I cannot mend wounds, In places I can't reach, I can't ask a God who loves me, Because he knows I'm already rotting underneath, My fish died when I got home, **** it.
0
Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 10:57 PM UTC
Enoch
My head hurts, Lifes a teaspoon of get the hell out, Makes me sick to my stomach, I surround myself with materialistic objects, I cannot mend wounds, In places I can't reach, I can't ask a God who loves me, Because he knows I'm already rotting underneath, My fish died when I got home, **** it.
madison-moskowitz
Written by
Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 10:57 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem