Can't do this anymore.
Living is a chore.
Loving is a chore.
Maybe there's an escape.
There.
Through that bottle.
And that roll.
And-
Fuck this poem.
I can't anyway.
YOU ARE READING
Took a Pill
Poetry"I guess we're just attracted to the neon lights like how fireflies are to the flames. Such idiotic creatures, aren't we?" A series of random drabbles or poems that may not make sense. a part of the "to be human." series.
