This is not a poem .Nest

Theres a Nest for my stress very two overcrowded loud steps

Closer to less, a beautiful rest 

Slowely getting harder to pick myself up 

Just like a compressed elf drinking out of a liquer cup 

Stuck at the bottom of the well 

So foul a fucked up mess a war cloud in his head 

Isnt it meant for fate to interlace 

Your fingers and twist intill they break 

Piercing with led rotating ahead west 

Ive had enough of what i have said but its okay i have a spare 

Nest.