Friday
The wind whispers gentle obscenities with it's icy breath...
Assurances that I am truly alone...
I stumble and fall on the hard concrete...
The true fallacy is home...
Walking aimlessly into the night...
I focus on all that I've lost...
I jot down random words..
Rhyming at any cost...
The song in my head is slightly off key...
Still dabbing the blood from my injured knee...
I'm always making it all about me...
I rot in this prison yet I am free...
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
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
