living on the fringe of the status quo
I'm broke in money but not in love and support.
some have it way worse no meds and no desire to get better.
this not a game.
you're well being is based on you're ability to change and experiment with you're meds.
I scream cause you keep looking for normal with out our new religion.
Dreams and drugs to make you a better version of insane you choose to wallow
I want the quiet of this blight on my mind.
you want the ever present voice or your own mind.
I'm disappointed in the fact that I can't save the world when I racing toward residual.
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
