There are blisters on my feet
Which are pesters to my deed
I have shown utter disbelief
To what you make into a mistreat
I have grown to see the blisters on my feet
As great reminders of what was a good concrete
That is never to be seen
By thoughts by which are never as it seems
By foe and friend where all should crawl
To seek again and try to brawl
So theses blisters on my feet
Are very precious memories
All wrapped up in con treat
So fare well to thou whom are foe and Fay
Just sing aloud till night from day
My blisters are our great secrecy
For all the very precious into one big memory
YOU ARE READING
My Jumping ( failure at suicide )
PoetryIf you like creepypastas read this. Also there are many poems that don't have creepypasta don't worry you'll see them because of the titles. DO NOT COPY MY WORK ALL OF THIS IS FROM MY MIND. Also please give criticism it will help me enhance my poem...
