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jeffrey-robinsonPoems
Hand in hand the skies  Were blue. There was a lot  between me and you.       But now the skies have turned    to crimson red  that spills from     my wrist when I fall into this  bed.       You were the one who taught me    How to feel. Now that you're gone,    I'm my worst enemy who I want    to ****        Nowhere to go and no place     to hide, some place far    away is where I choose    to reside.        Living like a square is     no longer my taste.     I drive away with this glock    strapped to my waist.        People can say what they     want to say. Their opinions     are not valid and are kept far away.        As the people you love look at me with     such disdain, I continue     to fill with all this pain.        A pain that cuts to my very core,    whats  left of my heart is now an open    Sore.        No reassurance from the stars for     they are all fading. My death is what I'm now contemplating.        The end is easier to     Embrace as I pour this glass and self medicate while my angel's have    lost their grip and are about ready to vacate.         Before they retreat to the sky, I surrender and let them hear my cry.        HELP
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Nov 7, 2019
Nov 7, 2019 at 11:39 PM UTC
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Hand in hand the skies  Were blue. There was a lot  between me and you.       But now the skies have turned    to crimson red  that spills from     my wrist when I fall into this  bed.       You were the one who taught me    How to feel. Now that you're gone,    I'm my worst enemy who I want    to ****        Nowhere to go and no place     to hide, some place far    away is where I choose    to reside.        Living like a square is     no longer my taste.     I drive away with this glock    strapped to my waist.        People can say what they     want to say. Their opinions     are not valid and are kept far away.        As the people you love look at me with     such disdain, I continue     to fill with all this pain.        A pain that cuts to my very core,    whats  left of my heart is now an open    Sore.        No reassurance from the stars for     they are all fading. My death is what I'm now contemplating.        The end is easier to     Embrace as I pour this glass and self medicate while my angel's have    lost their grip and are about ready to vacate.         Before they retreat to the sky, I surrender and let them hear my cry.        HELP
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jeffrey-robinson
Nov 7, 2019
Nov 7, 2019 at 11:39 PM UTC
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