i was a styrofoam cup on the lonely road
with nothing but the breeze carrying my abode
with decomposition my only aspiration
i felt nothing but empty desperation
until a creature as red as the radiating blood in flush
decided to crawl onto me and create a home of me
with negligence, I rolled it off protecting it from the likes of me
but no matter what, I could tell that there was a difference in the likes of it
a difference that would make this styrofoam cup on a lonely road
a styrofoam cup with a home
was that selfish on behalf of my own?
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My Poems Of Unrest
Poetryif u came across this, hey! these are just some poems I made describing things that i couldn't really describe or say physically, out loud. *WARNING* there is triggering content in these poems (self-harm, depression, anxiety, identity crisis, etc) t...
