I'll do it tomorrow
when i can lift myself out
of this bed
and i'll dance around
When i do it tomorrow
but for today
I'll lay here a bit more
as my head has attached
itself to my bed
and who am i to deny it
when I can do it tomorrow
YOU ARE READING
poems that make me hate myself a little less
Poetrya collection of poems written by a mentally ill 18 year old