deepundergroundpoetry.com
My Last
Empty pockets,
no star dust specs of luck
to cash in
on wishes and dreams.
They turned me into a monster;
a terrible fiend.
Lack of sleep,
bags under my eyes
shades like purple skies;
darkness in the ocean deep.
Burnt canary stained fingertips
holding on to a world of stronger trips.
Now,
you see things here, and you say,
‘Why?’
But I dream things that never were, and I say
“Why not ?”.
So I down this drink like it was my last,
and kill this roach off after the blast.
no star dust specs of luck
to cash in
on wishes and dreams.
They turned me into a monster;
a terrible fiend.
Lack of sleep,
bags under my eyes
shades like purple skies;
darkness in the ocean deep.
Burnt canary stained fingertips
holding on to a world of stronger trips.
Now,
you see things here, and you say,
‘Why?’
But I dream things that never were, and I say
“Why not ?”.
So I down this drink like it was my last,
and kill this roach off after the blast.
Published 27th Jan 2013
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The author encourages honest critique.
27th Jan 2013 7:45pm
Elegant,
Now,
you see things here, and you say,
‘Why?’
But I dream things that never were, and I say
“Why not ?”.
^^ Brilliant.
Very well written,
Scribbler.
Now,
you see things here, and you say,
‘Why?’
But I dream things that never were, and I say
“Why not ?”.
^^ Brilliant.
Very well written,
Scribbler.
27th Jan 2013 11:04pm
Thanks for the responses, very much appreciated. Many more pieces to follow in the near future !
