deepundergroundpoetry.com
I’m tired
My purpose is dwindling,
My marriage is failing,
A lot to be tired of.
I hate living in filth,
I hate my poor health,
Am I alive?
If this is to be alive, I don’t want it,
I’ll roll the dice of a thousand sinners,
Just for God to relinquish his hold.
Truthfully, I’m not so sure,
I was told therapy would be my cure,
But I… just got worse.
If tomorrow won’t come, I won’t holler,
Hell, I would gather up every dollar,
Just for the safety in knowing I won’t be yelled at again.
My marriage is failing,
A lot to be tired of.
I hate living in filth,
I hate my poor health,
Am I alive?
If this is to be alive, I don’t want it,
I’ll roll the dice of a thousand sinners,
Just for God to relinquish his hold.
Truthfully, I’m not so sure,
I was told therapy would be my cure,
But I… just got worse.
If tomorrow won’t come, I won’t holler,
Hell, I would gather up every dollar,
Just for the safety in knowing I won’t be yelled at again.
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