Dreams

Wallowing in self-pity and incessant regret,
my life's not the same and I can't stand it.
Left me for dead, screwed up in the head.
All this blood that I've bled, all this pain I can't shed.

The good times were a blast,
but they're in the past.
The bad times are now, and they're killing me.

I no longer care if I live or die.
I no longer care if I make it home.
I no longer care if I'm not there.

All these questions running through my head,
all these dreams of being dead.
All these desires to feel nothing,
all these wishes for something.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2006

Poem

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment

Be the first to comment on this poem. Encourage this poet.

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace