Rotten Place

I wrote this when I was 16, when I was producing poems at an extremely rapid rate. I wish it was like that now. This was produced out of spontaneity. I was frustrated with the endless cycle of depression, and medicated numbness.

          My sheltered 

         hole of dust and gas

        Why hasn't it all passed?

       Feet hurt

     nauseate

       Cold floor

    Won't communicate

   Take my bitter pills

   drop plastic top

   sudden eye movement

  that can't stop

Rock me overboard

Piece of glass

Shove this pillow

on my class

Reviews

[Legion]

Wasn't expecting that last line. :) Good write. Hope you still don't feel that way.