Sitting beyond the table,
Wallowing in anguish and sorrow,
Drowned in a pool of despair;
or maybe it's depression?
With your bong lit!
The room hazing with smoke,
"It eases my pain!"
At least that's what you told Jane,
But you felt like Mary wasn't supporting you enough,
Her constant rants and scorns;
brought the worst in you,
What next?
Now you have to think!
Think hard of something,
Something you've never done before:
Tell her SORRY!
YOU ARE READING
THE BOY ON THE BRIDGE.
PoetryThe weakest ink harbors the strongest minds. A collection of thoughts that will blow your mind. Some emotions laced herein are quirky, any similarity to real characters is just a mere coincidence*
