None of us are making it out alive.
We will arrive to our bitter end with what's left of our sanity;
being forced to answer questions at our reckoning from when we were alive.
By god, do I hope to show up slightly tipsy and a kiss-soaked smile.
YOU ARE READING
The Ramblings of a Mad Woman
PoetryWell I don't know if you can actually call this book poetry, it's really ramblings. But that's why poetry is beautiful right? It can be anything. You surrender your soul and write what comes out and that's what you have here. Poems about life, hea...
