crying alone on the bathroom floor
hearing hushed voices drift through the door
this is what i'll miss if i go
that, and everything i don't know
the vodka burns as it travels my tongue
tears in my eyes, isn't it fun?
it's one step away from the blade of a knife
this is what i've done with my life
YOU ARE READING
A Little Thing Called Death
Poesíai won't explain many of these. they are for you to work out and they'll probably mean something different to everyone. (i own these poems) ((FINISHED.))
