blood is on your hands
you fucking disgrace
a world in shambles
no direction
no sense of responsibility
an outbreak
is yours to deal with
do your fucking job
the world of difference
do your fucking job
a life worth keeping
do your fucking job
a family broken
do your fucking job
so shameless
so guiltless
so useless
no treatment
no sense of direction
her blood is on your hands
live with that forever
you neglectful disgrace
YOU ARE READING
fallen leaves and zebra prints
PoetryA collection of bad poems (again.) "you can't be that desperate" is a collection of my older poems. My newer ones will go on here.
