Your face looks at me in the mirror, every time I wake up,
The memories of my past overflows and fills up my cup.
~
You talked with your fist, you preached hard,
You taught me and Ma, you decorated us with your black and blue art,
~
I have your eyes, I have your strength, I have your blood in my veins,
Perhaps that's why I don't like looking at myself in the mirror, fight, and/or shoot up, until I lose my brains,
~
Today I get up, drink, and fuck whoever stands nearest,
Is that what you hoped for me? It's all thanks to you, daddy dearest.
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YOU ARE READING
Beyond The Needle
Poetry"Explosions are my specialty, I can and will be your doom, Now get down on your knees, baby, I'll make your world go boom." • • • Unconventional poems of a conformed man. I voice all my inner chaotic turmoils in rhyming words so they sound less path...
