25th Hour NepentheA Poem by Madame Mystique When the hours become fictitious 25th Hour Nepenthe She preferred forgetting during fictitious hours There was just something so darkly amusing About doing such bizarre things.
With a glass of contraband alcohol She slurred words of nothingness Trying to forget her insecurities.
Falling from the bar stool Blood and glass all around She laughed at her foolishness.
It will hurt tomorrow Who cares about her anyway? Waste of skin and time.
© 2011 Madame Mystique |
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Added on November 5, 2011 Last Updated on November 5, 2011 Author
Madame MystiqueSan Jose, Costa RicaAboutMy poetry is messy, spontaneous and out of the blue... Enjoy :). I've been writing poetry for 4 years now, my life would be miserable without it. more..Writing
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