The End of the Line

A tribute to Hunter S. Thompson

Too much pain. No more fun. Hate my life.
Death will come. High every day, it don’t last.
Wondering which breathe will be my last.

No enjoyment. All pain. Why so greedy for a path of no gain?
Spread ourselves thin. The night is the worst.

Right before I sleep. I live a nightmare.
No movement, pain everywhere.

I wake up missing sleep. I paid a price to get to sleep.
It did not last.

Author's Note

I read a similar style in Hunter's suicide note and wanted to experiment.

Reviews

[The Don]

Hey man, I live this too, my mind is honestly blown on how much I can relate to this poem. " high everyday, it wont last, wondering which breath will be my last", this is me on the day to day basis. Thank you for writing this bro.

[Jayden Ireton]

I am glad I wrote something you could relate to. Thanks for reading.

[Imara]

Your half rhyme but then is broken is truly strange but it works for this poem and provides an air of uncertainty. Good job.

[Jayden Ireton]

Yes the poem kind of jumps all over the place. Thanks for the read.