Post office

Like I always say, I'm not a writer. This is just a coping mechanism. Everything is pulled from the muddled lines of a notebook I use for therapy as a way to heal.

Send me down to the post office with a car load of s**t.

Say I'm being productive but you don't get it. 

I'm selling all my stuff because there's no will to live.

It's all I have to give.

So call me a businessman, entrepreneur, or a success.

I'm only trying to rid you of all these pests.

Throw me in a box, or burn my remains.

You'll struggle more with my stuff than with me. 

So I've been letting it all go. 

You just needed to know. 

Author's Note

Like I said, I am not a writer. This is just stuff pulled from a notebook I wrote in when I ran away and was in much worse shape. It is un-edited and found "as is".

Reviews

[мalғy]

This is completely just , this hits me in areas that I can relate.
Word of advice never change a piece, that raw emotion makes them so much more.

[Angel]

Wow, you've been through a lot. I still think it's great. You are pretty good not writer. :)