deepundergroundpoetry.com

Cutting Onions

I cling aimlessly
to failure,
like a sailor
to his sinking ship
 
peeling back
another layer,
of this stinking shit
that coats my core
 
cutting onions is such a chore
 
this leaky faucet
needs a fix,
and it's beginning to drip
into every facet
of my life
 
little ripples rise—
to the surface
of Lake Placid,
growing nervous
into flowing rapids
 
silly rabbit

just when you thought
this storm was passing,
your stomach's churning
and the waves are crashing
 
this cup is ever full—
as the dam reaches max capacity
a catastrophe is inevitable
Written by NewBeginnings
Published
Author's Note
It's not so bad, just feeling overwhelmed and a bit negative
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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