in astrology and divinations, not that I necessarily believe
I was told I'd end up broke and penniless
that my writing would cost me
money and sanity
I laugh
I'm already ahead of this curve
I'm broken
I've already lost my first mind years ago
it was love that brought me to the brink
pushed me over the edge
and as always said: "see you later"
I've hit rock bottom
no top of the mountain for me
I'd rather be destroyed by the goddess of words
I'd rather bleed in poetic fashion
rather than ever having to endure you and silence again
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
