![]() HangoverA Poem by The Poet of Black Wings
Foggy,
Muddled, Painful. Each movement, Taxing. Every thought, About pain. Taxing on the body, Distraction to the mind. The form recoils And spits out Strang liquids. Taxation raised high. The price of Fun. Regret, Is the first thing. A drink Is the second. Then stories. Desperately trying to Remember the events Prior to now. Regardless of Anything. The suffering, The consequence, We go back, Learning what we do Without fear. The punishment Inconsequential to Our desire. © 2016 The Poet of Black Wings |
StatsAuthor![]() The Poet of Black WingsAbouti hope my poems, among other writings, will speak for me. Edit - Full disclosure, if you ask me to read something, I will, and I'll be brutally honest about what I think about it. So, be ready for .. more..Writing
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