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.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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