It's another one of those nights
anxiety reaches new heights.
Pound back the bottle and try not to start fights.
Split the blunt, if you don't roll it, I might.
Hold me tight
Remind me what it's like
to feel right
I've lost sight
of where I'm going
The hardest part is not knowing
I wipe off the mascara,
though my pain is still showing
But no one is there and no one really cares.
I'll just pack up and go somewhere.
Nov 12, 2015
Nov 12, 2015 at 4:58 PM UTC
It's another one of those nights
anxiety reaches new heights.
Pound back the bottle and try not to start fights.
Split the blunt, if you don't roll it, I might.
Hold me tight
Remind me what it's like
to feel right
I've lost sight
of where I'm going
The hardest part is not knowing
I wipe off the mascara,
though my pain is still showing
But no one is there and no one really cares.
I'll just pack up and go somewhere.
One of those poems where you're just all in the feels.
