I hate how anytime I wake up the cycles continue,
Day after day, night after night,
Feeling wasteful like a alcoholic on the dirty streets,
Knowing it wasted life doing nothing but f#cking up,
Bored of the same walls and same rooms,
Knowing I seen it all before,
Until my head spins into 2,
To find nothing left but my wasteful self,
In a box full of clocks,
Showing me how much time I wasted,
How much days went without a waste,
And some are how days were wasted making a roof feel lazy as me,
What have I become from the old clock's ,
Who says,
" look at us and it's longer of a day, don't look and it comes quicker within a seconds daze"
YOU ARE READING
The Writer's World
PuisiThis book is about my poems that I have done Throughout my whole life, My first poem is how I got into poetry. Please, and thank you for giving this book a try.🙂