Waking up with an empty face again.
Going to bed with an empty face, again.
Boring.
The mug is smiling, I am smiling, everyone is smiling.
Nobody is smiling.
Why?
I ask why?
Everyday I meet him.
Everyday I drink his blood.
He smiles, but not when he is full.
Why?
Oh someone, please,
Please!
Come, come and drink my blood.
Don't you want to?
It's time to go to bed, Again.
YOU ARE READING
Chaos, Meaning and Poetry
PoetryIf you like weird, chaotic or deep poetry then this book is for you. You can find almost anything here, from Frying fish to Battlefields. Most of the poems are weird, hihi.
