I have this awful thing,
Dwelling deep within my soul,
I’ve always tried to hide,
But now the curse will take it’s toll.
Not because I want it to,
Or because I feel depressed,
But because I know the pain,
The muscle, screaming in my chest.
I don’t need some medication,
or some person’s assumptions,
All I need are some friends,
So the ticker could truly function.
That’s why the cool steal,
Oddly refreshing on my wrist,
Will be the one to bring the pain,
For the last time, I enlist,
Myself, to this contract,
Torture, ever so sweet,
I know that when I leave,
God will offer me a seat.
And if not, and I take a tumble,
Down to the belly of the beast,
I know it’s better than you traitors,
With my emotions as your feast.
Damnation is damnation,
Friends are a bond,
Satan has neither,
Why wouldn’t he be fond,
Of me, the same as him,
With no one to turn to,
I know sounds very silly,
But it’s something I look forward to.
- Author: Shamoo (Pseudonym) ( Offline)
- Published: March 21st, 2018 09:47
- Category: Sad
- Views: 13
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.