deepundergroundpoetry.com

To Our Vices

Discharged from a hole
Error to the throne
I am not human
At least, not as you understand it

Smoggy thoughts, manic
This is my diet
I will never stop
My body is failing, I must sustain

Pressures you exude
Are hands on the noose
I am not human
So do not ask of me to let it go.
Written by Fishmander
Published
Author's Note
Thank you for reading.
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