The snow is on my table in line like it's taking orders. Enter my nostrils, in my body like alcohol oh yeah I'm not sober. Don't let me forget about my needles yeah those are special, in my arm on my skin, hold on I need tissue. Nose running that's the issue nostrils burning in the kitchen. momma cooking probably washing dishes, stuck here dreaming on her kids favorite wishes. But I'm I think I'm taking in too much pain so pass me the pills, mmm don't knock'em over don't let'em spill.... still, waiting on these wounds to heal. Im shacking and I'm smelling roast momma's cooking dinner she's cooking roast, can she hear me shacking...don't...don't...please don't let me overdose.
YOU ARE READING
"When Life Gives You Apples"
PoetryIt's a poem book full of situations that a boy could be put in, some exciting, some dissapointing...but when life gives you apples, what do you do?
