How far off the deep end do you have to go
Until you remember you don't know how to float
And now you're too tired to swim
Since that day last spring when I saw all of your ambition end.
They tell me you look empty
Hollow
And dull
Like something is missing
The consumption of your soul.
You say I'm no longer someone you'd hit
But at least I'm not the one smoking a bag of dog shit.
YOU ARE READING
Unwritten
PoesiaPoems I never published because words are permanent and we were too wishy washy to be anything more than temporary.
