Wakey Wakey
Scars and hatey
Nothing like
The sizzling smell of fresh regret
Frying greasy
The aroma wafting at every frequency
Beyond Impossible to deny a taste
a side of burnt toast, buttered with anxiety
Early in the morn
Steamy, creamy caffeinated
Sips of failure
Inefficiently gathering shadows
Still wallowing around
Not understanding their time
Has long past
Sticking their ghastly fingers into the present
Picking at scars
Early in the morn
Lacerations across the sky
Carved up in
Disappointment
Mistakes staring intently from all angles
What will never be
Stuck in a whirlwind of constant indecision
Flinging shrapnel with ferocious flexibility
Finding the chinks in our bountiful weaknesses
Early in eternity
YOU ARE READING
Gruesome veracity poetry
PoesieThe people who struggle the most wear the most elaborate masks. These poems uncover dark truths of the world through my perspective
