The Washington Post* Asphyxiates Itself

“Democracy Dies in Darkness,” you say –
But your arguments die under your popups, okay?

Money was speny
Time wasted
Early to work i went
No breakfast tasted

And yet my reward?
Sitting here useless
Im not moving toward
Anything but a big mess

Crying allows me to slow down and obsess over the weight of life's problems
like an anorexic preteen watching as the numbers tick on a scale
Sadness consumes my every thought

I could use a friend who would catch a bullet for me,
I could use a parent that wouldn't abandon me,
I could use all these things while I'm digging this grave,
They say they would **** me for the words I say,
But there's no way,
That I'm still alive after all this pain,
All these sorrows,
No bright tommorrows,
Would you miss me when I'm gone?
Would you cry for me with those beautiful eyes?
Would you tell me that you loved me all this time,
After I can't hear a thing?
After I die?