There's nothing to do.
There's nothing to say.
It's times like these
I don't see the point
in living.
It's a waste of space.
It's a waste of air.
It's a waste of life.
It's a waste.
Such a waste.
YOU ARE READING
Poems of a Neurotic Insomniac
PoesíaLet's see how this goes. It's time for this sleep-deprived, emotionally-unstable creature to write some shit down.
