My little bottle of pills,
I swear it kills me every time
I have to pop you open.
The familiar click covering my soul in grime.
One, two, three, four.
How many do I have to swallow
Before you can no longer claim me as yours.
YOU ARE READING
Marionette
PoetryJust some poetry. I've given up on being a novelist for the time being so most of what I post will be poetry or short stories if I feel up for it
