You found me sad.
But what happiness,
Does an outcast have?
For baby, I’m a prisoner.
A prisoner shackled,
To iron bars,
Constructed of my shame.
My inmates have an echo,
That pricks my nerves.
The inconsiderate fellows,
Just live too loud,
On my vulnerable days.
This prison consumes me,
As I know,
This is all that’s left for a shell;
a few dregs of happiness
after the elixir
has been gulped.
Like
Share
About the Creator
Chloe A
L O V E T O M A D N E S S
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.