When it was too much,
I craved for death
Yet my wrists bleed ever so slowly
My stomach rejects the poison
My lungs still grasps for air
I realized as I near the end
That I felt this pain before
I must've started dying
from your first mistake
Yet I'm still holding on
Dear me,
I'm sorry.
January 6, 2017
YOU ARE READING
Poems out of Boredom
PoetryCOLLECTION OF MY OWN POEMS... IT'S THE PRODUCT OF A BORED BRAIN LACKING INSPIRATION. BEAR WITH IT. HAHA.
