I don't fucken like it
This shit going through my head
My brain
It's like it ain't mine
It's somebody else's
And I can't understand what it's trying to tell me
It's frustrating
It's stupid
Like
What can I do about it
Nothin
I don't wanna do anything with it
Fucken thing ain't even mine
Just stealing my memories and shit
But it's thinking like a clouded day
And I hate the fucken rain
YOU ARE READING
Poetry Book 4
Poetryhello again! another poetry book - number four, to be exact. if you've been here a while, you know the drill: there's no order to this thing, and after 100 poems or writing pieces, there's gonna be a new book. about the cover: it was a Thursday at S...
