living in my head
broken
out spoken you are
can never dispose of you
talking
you tell me the world is against me
the hell you give me is unbearable
you run every one away
i pray for you to go away
no matter what i say i think maybe god is testing me
sometimes i wonder what it would be like to tie a cord to the door and hang
or bash my head in with a frying pan
i tried getting away believe me i ran
i fought it well i gave it hell
it locked me in a cell
i continued to yell
even when it ripped out my vocal cords
i will still scream from the grave
no one will save me........
-levi cloninger-
-
Author:
lemons poetry (
Offline) - Published: May 5th, 2018 02:01
- Comment from author about the poem: this poem is pretty dark...so tread lightly
- Category: Gothic
- Views: 33
Offline)
Comments2
Ok, I'll go away. Save ya bashing yourself over the head with frying pan, etc. Cooke some bacon and eggs with it instead! I never realised me singing was that bad. Does your squirrel like it, in your pic? heehee.
Lmao I like you
you can save yourself.
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.