My problems keep me from hiding,
My problems come in human form,
I try to find my light to blind em,
But they still knock on my door.
My solutions I try to find them,
But they're under a cement floor,
My demons that you see don't mind them,
They're only here because they bought my soul at the store.
God has been a thing I've always believed in,
Dad says there is no god I don't believe him.
I feel like In the end the good will always win,
Just I always lose my battles just like when I was a kid.
I need a miracle always ask myself where it's been,
Been feeling fucking left out with this stupid ass shit,
I don't know when I am supposed to fucking quit,
Just please someone tell me so when I need to sleep I give into it.
YOU ARE READING
Letters To The Writer: Volume 1
PoetryJust me writing poems, can be sad, can be happy, matters about he day and what I'm writing about. This is really for me but if you like it a share, vote, comment would be much appreciated, thank you.
