I get this over whelming feeling to,
Destroy my live for this world.
Pouring gasoline in my room.
Putting forks inside microwaves.
Simple rope to do its bedding.
My family is gone.
They left me to celebrate.
So I took this chance to celebrate too.
So sick and tired of letting my mind run.
Just wanna walk for awhile.
Let go to sleep for the longest
So I hear that explosion from my run.
Fire slowly coming up to that chair I'm on.
I stick my neck on that rope and I let my ass choke.
Fire burning me as I gasping for air.
Askin if it's too late to fix this.
Demons leaving my soul, it's too late for them.
Burning with me, I laugh with blood gushing from my exposed stomach.
Burning like pigs and me holding them down.
I laughed as I burned, and they burned and laughed with me.
I wake up tears in my eyes.
Sweat across my body.
And pain on my neck.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry : A King's Poverty
PoesiaA description of a king is almost defined by the way there Kingdom is perceive "Perfect" Nobody knows that, the ruler of the Land wears two crowns with two different coronation, One crown is for his might, the other is the side he never shows. As yo...
