Mum and Dad are fighting.
Mum and Dad are crying.
Mum and Dad are relying on me to soothe their urges for dying.
Mum and Dad don't like eachother, yet insist on keeping me.
Mum and Dad are arguing over whose I am to keep.
Mum keeps on drinking, wasting her liver away.
Dad keeps on talking about the "Good Old Days".
Mum and Dad have a lawyer, and an attorney.
I don't know what they do, but both of them are scary.
I don't want Dad to go, he makes so many jokes.
I don't want Mum to go, even though she smokes.
Where am I to go now, when Mum and Dad are gone.
What do you mean "Nowhere"? Am I really alone?
I'm being taken to a new place, full of children like myself.
Depressed, Motionless, orphans, blank husks of their former selves.
I've wrote this little poem, to express the feelings I have seldom.
I wish I could feel happy, but I'd need a working heart to feel them.
YOU ARE READING
A Collection of Short Things
Short StoryI get bored and depressed, so I write short stories and poems that no one cares about. I put them here, so get ready for some amateur poetry.
