I can’t imagine celebrating the day when my problems began,
That day, a lease I signed,
For a short, brutish, and nasty life.
With each birthday, a year getting amortized,
And feeling close to my grave.
I just have to roll those feelings;
And smoke it away.
I’m drowning in the sea of sadness
And I can’t lie
I don’t have much time left.
Offline)
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.