Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
Don't you worry about me, I'm not going anywhere. Don't think it's up me; I'm not getting anywhere. Second-hand coffee grounds and sediment on cold mugs. Filthy dregs, cold hands, not a sound, quiet, like a powder keg. Empty room but for me. There she blows, weak breeze, tiny window. Don't you forget about me. I don't want to go just yet, but when I did, it's much more hell than if I stayed. It's much more hell And you won't talk to me or listen even. Weak breeze, tiny window. And I can't find the way to say: 'Talk to me, talk to me' And everyone I used to know won't talk to me no more, but you don't know me. You don't know me no more. Talk to me, talk to me
0
Dec 30, 2016
Dec 30, 2016 at 6:10 AM UTC
Verbal Excretion N. 01
Don't you worry about me, I'm not going anywhere. Don't think it's up me; I'm not getting anywhere. Second-hand coffee grounds and sediment on cold mugs. Filthy dregs, cold hands, not a sound, quiet, like a powder keg. Empty room but for me. There she blows, weak breeze, tiny window. Don't you forget about me. I don't want to go just yet, but when I did, it's much more hell than if I stayed. It's much more hell And you won't talk to me or listen even. Weak breeze, tiny window. And I can't find the way to say: 'Talk to me, talk to me' And everyone I used to know won't talk to me no more, but you don't know me. You don't know me no more. Talk to me, talk to me
lealdous
Written by
Dec 30, 2016
Dec 30, 2016 at 6:10 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem