Every morning my cup of joe,
Creeper on the low, quite innocent when exposed,
In control, jealously plays its parts,
Good man do bad, all over again it starts.
When they see me, glide skip, I'm scooby dooin,
Locked up in my own thoughts, pretty ruthless,
No compassion, what's orgasms to overreactions,
See the glitter it fades,
So I just play my part,
So much glass, shit get broken and fallen apart.
Suicide come real close, I'm on the ropes,
Single moments no guidance leading the brain screaming,
Never a rebel, the rules follow just stop the bleeding,
Got a secret, twinning Mr. Clinton's sweet Lowinsky.
YOU ARE READING
Suicide, I love you.
PoetryA collection of thoughts from before an untimely death. Arranged from prearranged music. Compiled from several days in solitary confinement. The End.
