"supposted" poems
My bones melt
Clay sticks in a toddlers mouth
In the wrong place
Being muitlated and twisted
I'm supposted to be stored
In a dry
Room tempture place
With out the stripping rays
Of the sun
Skin peeling off in rusty strips
The gummy snap back like
A broken hair band
The heat crackling
Chapping and blistering
I'm supposted to be laid to rest
Not over stretched or
Over done
But instead I'm exactly
Where I'm not supposted to be
People say
Loneliness is a killer
But
When you're on your own
There is no one to let you down
Oct 2, 2012
Oct 2, 2012 at 9:11 PM UTC
Why did I do what I did?
Why do you do what you do?
Why do you keep on brining it up as if nothing's new?
I've tried to forget it, I've tried to move on.
But you just have to say that you've won.
I'm tired of your story and I'm tired of your ****
I can't do it anymore. So I quit.
The story's the same and it gotten quite boring.
Don't mind me, ignore my snoring
This isn't what it's supposed to be like, it's supposted to be fun.
But that's it no more, I am done.
May 19, 2013
May 19, 2013 at 1:28 AM UTC