You weren't my favourite cup, you never was,
You let water trickle too quickly through holes made by moss,
You are too fickle with the drinks I love to drink,
You obey, I think,
That's how your creator made you tick.
You weren't my favourite cup, you never was,
I didn't even buy you, the shopkeeper did,
He forced me into it, if you didn't get my gist,
I wish you could taste sweeter, to that it awes,
But that's impossible, wine from a man taste better than a book.
You weren't my favourite cup,
You never was,
You drink my drink and ruin yourself,
I guess the dead's always thirsty for it's previous wants and self(
YOU ARE READING
No one Gives a Damn
PoetryPoems I have written about feelings and things no one probably gives a damn about. I'm on Facebook as The Writer. (Nevermind, no one gives a damn anyway)
