can you hear me?
are you listening?
how can you hear anything
with your ears turned the other way?
forget about me
and forget about my problems
you didn't care in the first place
why should you care now?
i'm screaming at the top of my lungs
and nobody can hear me
i'm not okay
and i never fucking will be
i always said i'd wait
until the next week, the next month
but i can't wait anymore
i don't think i'm strong enough
i'm going to tie a noose
and sharpen a blade
and pour water for the pills
and nobody can hear me crying
so i will depart quietly
and will not be missed
the funeral will be pretty empty
what a fucking legacy, huh?
YOU ARE READING
A Little Thing Called Death
Poetryi won't explain many of these. they are for you to work out and they'll probably mean something different to everyone. (i own these poems) ((FINISHED.))
