When shit doesn't make sense you gravitate more to the things that did.Fuck it can't be the motto for everything,Or to everything.We can't live without something,We can't live without some things.Some things we use to live,Are the same things that kill us.But if I've lost sight of right and wrong.
Fuck it,Just not to everything.
You live, you bleed, you live, repeatI barely live now.Then I sleep with help of hydrocodone,My mind sits so active,Who can really put that shit to sleep?I’ve been struggling with it for weeks.Haven’t seen dreams in weeks.Haven’t been seen in…
That's why my memories so bleak.Stress kills,So name your murderers every night when they creep.Stress kills,In visions made in 5d, so much to see.
About the Creator
D.C Memoir
Sometimes the words find the page before you get the chance to understand them. In that case, most of these writings are just happy accidents. Coincidence. Or just a result of perfect entanglement.
Memoirs Tuesday | Poetry Thursdays
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