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kayla-lynnPoems
These demons in my head Are no less real than the Pills in my hand Laced in glossy white And pink A heavy dose of Dreams What's the diagnosis Besides my obvious Inability to sleep? Maybe I am allergic To these bright lights Strung around the world In little clusters Maybe I am repulsed By the faint smell of Pine diffusing off Her clothes Maybe I am appalled At the thought of Sugar plums twirling In my ****** up head While I try to rest On the stone cold floor I have a case of hate A disease completely Impossible to escape Jolly is not a word To me Anymore December, December The way you make my Pale lips shiver In the frosty air The way you make The green grass crunch Under my cut up Feet I think I may have Loved you once Many moons ago Back when that Fat guy with the beard Was real But now things are Different You make my nose Glow red And my skin Dry up in flakes And I swear, Miss December You are ruining Every second of Every day Because it's so much easier To place the blame On someone who isn't Exactly real Now, back to the pills Down they go Along with my words Along with the poem Goodnight, Miss December I pray to wake in January's light.
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Dec 13, 2010
Dec 13, 2010 at 1:58 PM UTC
December
These demons in my head Are no less real than the Pills in my hand Laced in glossy white And pink A heavy dose of Dreams What's the diagnosis Besides my obvious Inability to sleep? Maybe I am allergic To these bright lights Strung around the world In little clusters Maybe I am repulsed By the faint smell of Pine diffusing off Her clothes Maybe I am appalled At the thought of Sugar plums twirling In my ****** up head While I try to rest On the stone cold floor I have a case of hate A disease completely Impossible to escape Jolly is not a word To me Anymore December, December The way you make my Pale lips shiver In the frosty air The way you make The green grass crunch Under my cut up Feet I think I may have Loved you once Many moons ago Back when that Fat guy with the beard Was real But now things are Different You make my nose Glow red And my skin Dry up in flakes And I swear, Miss December You are ruining Every second of Every day Because it's so much easier To place the blame On someone who isn't Exactly real Now, back to the pills Down they go Along with my words Along with the poem Goodnight, Miss December I pray to wake in January's light.
© December 2010 Sarah Lynn
kayla-lynn
Written by
kayla-lynn
Dec 13, 2010
Dec 13, 2010 at 1:58 PM UTC
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