VO (May 18,1980 / Clifton New Jersey)


They were once friends
Now they judge and ignore me
Strangers act the same
They posion my conscience
It gets harder to sleep at night
Thinking about my shitty life
Wondering if everything I do is right
She says I'm too old
He says I look messed up
Theres more Ive been told
Right now im just fed up
Nobody could love me
Not at any cost
I'm tired of being here
I want to get lost
Maybe inside a poem
I'll become words for another lost soul
It's ironic, the more suffering, the more creativity
If life is a poem, do we really have control? ? ?

User Rating: 3,6 / 5 ( 4 votes ) 1

Comments (1)

I know just how you feel, Vic. Believe me. I so do. Regards, Gina.