It would appear that
most
Of these poems
Reflect broken hearts
and
Weighted bones.
Sitting, thinking,
All alone.
Surrounded by a happy home?
Or are you truly all alone?
Your misery a lonesome dome.
No family to scratch your back?
No bitter rival to attack?
No **** buddy to fill your cup?
So you stay empty,
Shriveled up.
I know that feeling,
Isolation.
Talk to someone,
Change the station.
There's more to life than
Hugs and kisses.
Do some drugs and
Find what bliss is.
Meditate atop a mountain.
Transform yourself into a fountain.
Let the water trickle down
Onto dead leaves that was your frown.
Or maybe torture **** a clown?
Whatever gets ya off, mate.
Aug 25, 2012
Aug 25, 2012 at 8:25 PM UTC
It would appear that
most
Of these poems
Reflect broken hearts
and
Weighted bones.
Sitting, thinking,
All alone.
Surrounded by a happy home?
Or are you truly all alone?
Your misery a lonesome dome.
No family to scratch your back?
No bitter rival to attack?
No **** buddy to fill your cup?
So you stay empty,
Shriveled up.
I know that feeling,
Isolation.
Talk to someone,
Change the station.
There's more to life than
Hugs and kisses.
Do some drugs and
Find what bliss is.
Meditate atop a mountain.
Transform yourself into a fountain.
Let the water trickle down
Onto dead leaves that was your frown.
Or maybe torture **** a clown?
Whatever gets ya off, mate.
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