deepundergroundpoetry.com

Scarface

I wear garments of isolation,

The pain is rare it lacks description,

Maybe I should die to survive,
I long for peace  a crib for my soul to rest,
a cool place with low temperatures,
and I heard that heaven is a better place.

Connect the dots in my face,
measure my stress, pimple by pimple,
the dimples have faded.
Am clueless like the only virgin in the room.
Like God was on vacation when I was born,
so he does not know that I exist,

I pray in vain.

Am I insane?
Written by Psyfochic
Published
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