Read this and absorb my soul. I’m rotted with wisdom as I travel through a grayscale world in which every living thing wears a frown. Morbid and alone, love is nightshade and agony is pleasure. Distopion, tyranny and oppression. This place is corrupted. I need a pen so that I can further depress myself. I scratch out the bad ideas as if the ones you read now are good. Scratch me, scratch my pen. Walk across my thoughts, lose yourself. Run across my thoughts and your soul will pour from your mouth and my demons will feast upon it.
END
Sep 10, 2018
Sep 10, 2018 at 2:42 PM UTC
Read this and absorb my soul. I’m rotted with wisdom as I travel through a grayscale world in which every living thing wears a frown. Morbid and alone, love is nightshade and agony is pleasure. Distopion, tyranny and oppression. This place is corrupted. I need a pen so that I can further depress myself. I scratch out the bad ideas as if the ones you read now are good. Scratch me, scratch my pen. Walk across my thoughts, lose yourself. Run across my thoughts and your soul will pour from your mouth and my demons will feast upon it.
END
A poem about writing poetry.
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