Old poem from August. It goofy kinda.
I sat on top of my bunk bed, thinking how life would be better
if I was never born
I'm filipendous, hanging on by a thread
A thread that will turn into a rope
And wrap around my neck
Pulled up by the angels to taunt me
Before dropping me down to hell
I could've been the devil's friend
But it seems I've forgotten they're just doing their job
Like they forgot they could quit
Take of their horns and halos
And go back to being normal human beings