Every day is a waking nightmare
Every night is a living, breathing hell
Every day I feel like I'm gasping for a breath from a mouth that isn't there
Every night I am a broken record of my mistakes
Every day starts the same with my heart racing like cars and my eyes darting at every target
Every night I can see people watching me and looking though my glass fucking body
Every day I wonder what the actual fuck is wrong with me
Why do I live in this repeating nightmare
What am I doing so fucking wrong
What the hell am I
Where that fuck am I
Who am I
Every night I am gone
YOU ARE READING
A Spark Of Hope
PoetryTHE GESTURE: By George Oppen The question is: how does one hold an apple Who likes apples And how does one handle Filth? The question is How does one hold something In the mind which he intends To grasp and how does the salesman Hold a bauble he int...
