Stake me in a fire or in a corn field.
Take your shots or let the fire or crows kill.
I have nothing left of you to want to feel.
Damaged I'm now taking prescribed pills.
Understand I've been walking dead for a while.
I've lost the pride and trust I had in you.
Still have the investigation and lawsuit to file.
Then it's your view I won't ever again view.
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Author:
Maplespal (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: July 5th, 2026 08:18
- Comment from author about the poem: My mind needed to spit that out.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 3
Offline)
Comments2
Sounds like conflict here. Sad and sour it speaks bitterness.
It's hard to love your persecutors.
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