Violets are blue
and blood is red
I always knew
you'd end up dead
You drowned in tears
accidentally
Cut your wrists
on apathy
You jumped…
and landed on your knees
Baby
You practiced
hanging
by a thread
My almost living
Nearly dead
From Russia
with a nice roulette
A matching bullet
for your head
A set of pills
for every meal
Ten for every
itch you feel
You found reality
could be bent
You checked out
and left for rent
a vacant seat
behind the wheel
Baby
No comments:
Post a Comment