The lark is dead,
the boy is numbing his head,
the family doesn't care,
and my mind is lead.
But I managed to quit,
so now I can admit,
I still cry on most days,
my mind still has fits.
Now don't get me wrong,
if I open my eyes its gone,
for my head constantly fights,
but my soul gets along.
So now I lay me down to sleep,
I'll give myself my soul to keep,
don't trust Gods greedy hands,
he molded my heart and made it weep.
YOU ARE READING
Idk
PoetryFirst off, ***trigger warning***I honestly have no idea how to describe this book. I guess it's just poetry about my life, and my life is pretty good. My mind is what ruins me, it twists and turns everything good into something bad. I feel like poet...