I am a prisoner, of my own mind,
Seems as if half of it has fallen behind,
Why do you think you're so f*cking blind?!
You know by now, I'm not that kind.
Wow, I cut myself, like it matters,
Like a plate glass window, my whole life shatters,
You don't understand, and probably never will,
I am sitting alone on my steep, dark hill.
Contemplating my life, and how much I hate it,
It doesn't really matter, and doesn't make a sh*t,
I could jump out a window or slit it right here,
Don't try and understand...shut the f*ck up, dear.
Comments on this poem/writing:
|Gal (18.104.22.168) -- Saturday, January 15 2005, 06:22 am|
I have to wonder if this wouldn't get more serious notice if it didn't have so much cussing. I personally like most of what you have to say but the cussing seems to cheapen it.
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