Every time I gulp down
a bottle of ice cold bitter
I'm borrowing the promise of tomorrow
To make the night better
A foolish ploy,
A desperate bid
Of the lonely, the misfit, and the accused
I'm racking up the time I borrowed, wasted, and abused
Now that it took its toll
on my body and my mind,
There's no more end of the tunnel
or silver lining I can find
YOU ARE READING
Confessions of a Tired Poet
PoetryWhat kind of poem would you write if you stopped caring about everybody else? Confessions of a Tired Poet is a collection of short poems that gives you a backstage pass to the life of a poet who's sick and tired of his life. This is the front seat t...
