Fingers
Dart across keyboards
Like a bee
Flying to sting your hand
After you try to kill it.
The aircon's breeze
Washes over the room,
Slowly roasting
Those that sit behind these desks
For nine hours a day
So that they leave
Discontent and broken
Only
To do it all again
How I long for the sunlight
And the noise
Of outside
Anything's better than this.
This
Silent
Hell.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry Because I'm Edgy Trash Now Apparently
PoesíaI got bored in my dads office and wrote poetry. Hopefully it's not too edgy, but I hope it actually makes me feel better about myself??? I dunno. Enjoy me being an Edgy Teen™
