![]() DepressionA Poem by John
When the guitar is right there under your bed,
waiting to be fed a chorus of captain crunch and fruit loops, there's about zero to none perchance that your song is going to actually make its stand, on the radio, on the stereo singing why oh why oh why can't I just get laid, is it too much to ask to have a helping hand with the problems that can't seem to escape me, break me, take me to the edge of the cliff/ ledge of the drifting sunrise in a kaleidoscope of broken promises and forgotten childhoods, when you ask yourself, is that ME? And the man in the mirror replies, oh so cheerily, you did this to yourself.
© 2013 JohnReviews
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7 Reviews Added on May 14, 2013 Last Updated on May 14, 2013 Tags: depression, mental illness, death, destruction, hate, sad Related WritingPeople who liked this story also liked..
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