Calming in the dark.
Alienation is my part.
I hear I hate what I've become.
The decisions I've made.
The women I've laid.
Truth be told.
Lies be heard.
I'm unscathed in this hurt.
Sugary sweet possessions.
Mean nothing today.
I fear the life you've chosen.
The decisions you've made.
You were one of this women.
The ones I took for my own.
Pointless sex.
Needed attention.
I've become the liar.
I search of the emptiness.
YOU ARE READING
Salad Days
PoetrySad poems from sad and angry times. Written from a juvenile time (14 years old) to older. That's what you get when you leave a teen to ponder reality. A pen hits reality harder than high school survival. Original Art from Vivianne Rheaume
