A paranoid sleep,
a broken phone,
a single mistake that is all my own.
I'll think about it until I cry,
while hospital flowers watch me die.
Sympathetic smiles, what a shame,
the world is a party for those without pain.
Awake in a coma that can't be undone,
So we watch the moon collide with the sun.
Our scars are constellations,
with genesis unknown.
Our scars are constellations,
to one day guide us home.
YOU ARE READING
My Sweet Grave Digger
PoetryI use to have an anger so big, it could fill up any house. Poems from the garage attic.
