pricking my finger on a silver knife,
I really thought the table could hold me.
your polluted advice won't save my life,
and me loving you didn't come for free.
I have injuries, paint, and pizza stains,
I sometimes drink 'til my muscles are sore.
you don't understand, please let me explain,
I need it all- it's trapped behind locked doors.
voices whisper in the depths of my mind-
but who are they? SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP.
a cold achy shiver creeps up my spine,
as you come up behind me- don't look up.
I am so restless but I can pretend
that maybe life has a happier end.
YOU ARE READING
The Road to Paradise
PoetryThis book has a bunch of poems that have bits and pieces of my life in them. I write whatever comes to mind, and it usually makes sense. But everything has a hidden meaning. Of course, some of it is random, but it all comes together (plus I like to...
