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Best Stress Poems

Below are the all-time best Stress poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of stress poems written by PoetrySoup members

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Poems are below...


New Stress Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Stress poems are below this new poems list.

Stress levels on max by Echols, Blic
Scarecrow Stress by hoffman, cheryl
Stress Free by Cranney, Damian
Stress leaves by Sands, Heidi
Without stress by Skoufis, Sotirios
Stress Relief by Soper, Joseph
post-trauma-attic stress by jones, aunna
Forever Must Stress by Horn, James
Avoiding Stress by Stebbings, Barry
The Poetic Stress Releaser by McConnell, Gordon

View all new Stress Poems

The Best Stress Poems

 
Details | Stress Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Frozen Noose

Anxiety    (The Worst Noose In Town)

-- like flooding waters, creeping in
I count 30, seconds, holding my breath again
Drowning in agitation, overwhelmed by fear
I try to hide the pressure in hopes I don't pass out
My pores are soaked, from all the perspiration
I feel the pins and needles pushing in
My skin is ruined from all the peeling
At this point, I can't seem to win

Washed out by dead hope and desire 
My soul is lost searching for a shore
leashing, grasping and ripping the chest wide
I count 40, seconds, once nausea can't be blocked
Everything about this moment is driving me mad,
I need to escape, however, my knees are too weak
I tremble while losing control to the emotional distress
My knuckles are pale, detached from reality,
wounds forced with further embarrassment.
Guaranteed failure surrounds my day
Numbness strikes my very essence - I can't move!

Lost in a room, 
Therapy - even so I feel singled out


HAPPY VALENTINES (it can get the best of us)  
---------------------------- love Linda


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2016

Details | Stress Poem | Create an image from this poem.

I Need Your Help Daddy

I’m tired
I’m Physically and Emotionally tired
I don’t want to be the strong one anymore
I can’t this time
I don’t know what to do Daddy
I need your help down here

I can’t get back in control of my emotions 
I’m having a hard time dealing with your absence
I’m having a hard time standing by myself
I need your help Daddy

I’m broken and lost without you Daddy
I need your will to want to carry on
I need your strength to over come this
I need your strength to stay standing
Your courage to fight back again
I need your help 

Please Daddy I’m at a loss
How am I suppose to do this
I need your guidance 
I need you to guide me back
To whom I was before
I need your help Daddy
I need your help








Copyright © Sabrina Niday Hansel | Year Posted 2013



Details | Stress Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Bittersweet

So bittersweet is this creative art of writing thoughts through words of poetry. So many say how peaceful is my heart that it can shape a verse that's part of me. They never see the bitter times of stress my mind goes through for every perfect word: the hunting down of them to bring success, so thoughts within my heart can then be heard. But when I reach the mountain top, complete a gem that tells my mind it met the goal, the stress dissolves into a joy so sweet, and peace envelopes me, my heart and soul. June 17, 2016 Contest: Bittersweet Sponsor: Kevin Shaw


Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2016

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- BuBBles -




Lovely foam bath and lots of bubbles
Who knew it would lead to trouble

A luxury for wounded muscles and joints, with quality
An oasis of calm and peace became a comedy

A glass of wine, rose petals and candles
Oh so perfect, naked just wearing my bathing sandals

In five minutes everything was turned into a real mess
My three dogs had a bubble party, all I got was stress

















21.08.2017
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved


Copyright © Sunshine Smile | Year Posted 2017

Details | Stress Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Sleep Amongst The Reeds

A prickly world envelopes 
The subtle Emerald skin, 
One so delicate as can be scorched
By an Irish morning sun. 
Low gulls crying overhead
Keep me idle amongst the reeds,
Eyes wide, sucking in the expanding blue, 
Sporadically streaked with white.
Rose dances with Ray 
Along the celestial path, and
A blushing glow is born.
Deep breaths. 
Salty air caresses and travels 
Down into a spongy soul.
Hand to cheek, a rose
Returns to blue, but Ray
Will forever twinkle around
The dusty pink until 
The crimson lakes again flourish.
The shriek of wings down the shore
Are now a distant echo. Lids heavy,
The siesta forcing me to sink
Further into the hot sands of the coast.
Light as a feather, eyes dimming,
I see it all as the tide chases me.
Through times of trouble she has guided;
In sadness, she did listen; once again
She draws closer and prepares to lead me
From the woes of the city, the faults of society, 
And into a world that is real: the salt of the earth.
I want to swim into unknown, bathe 
In the life of her vessel, and have the soothing
Waves wash over me and rid me of the false pretences.
But for now, I will listen to her: 
A soothing voice that one must never vex,
Swooshing in and sneaking out.
A light crash of waves against the rocks
Swooshing in, sneaking out;
The drama from days gone by
Swooshing in, sneaking out;
Money and bills swooshing in
“To hell with those” sneaking out;
Swooshing in, sneaking out;
Swooshing in, sneaking out;
Swooshing in, sneaking out;
Swoosh—
Out!


Copyright © Nicola Byrne | Year Posted 2015

Details | Stress Poem | Create an image from this poem.

i will not fail

You want the truth
There are people out there 
That just want to take away your youth
There is nothing we gain
But the fact
We carry around a lot of pain
I beg god please
As I grab the rope
Looking for relief
There is no hope
They say they know the road is long
But you'll turn out to be so strong
I will not fail
I know there will be grief
As my face turns pale
I had no where to go
And no one to call
So I kicked the chair 
And let my body fall


Copyright © tia himes | Year Posted 2017

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The Color Missing

The Color Missing
Red, black, and blue are the colors of our work pens. Red is the color of the blood we spill on other people’s mistakes.  Blue is the color of the songs we sing on tax forms or pay stubs- every page has a secret melody. Black is the color of the streets we fear most. Black is the color of our signature of approval. Black is the color of our death.

‘But what about the Green pens?’ I ask. They say ‘the ink is too hard to see.’



Copyright © Jacob Reinhardt | Year Posted 2013

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New Road

In a new road,
Rain will fall,
Wind may blow,
Swifting our woe.

The road forever on and on,
Many paths to choose,
Many paths to take,
Home behind,
World ahead...

Through the shadows,
Through the night,
Clouds going by,
There we will lie,
Very deep,
Seeing shivered land,
Seeing the dead seas...

Through the edge,
Miles to go,
Singing by,
Darkness rising,
Vanishing light,
Hollow flourishing,
Going by,
World ahead,
Home behind...

Rain may fall,
Through the nightfall,
Through the twilight,
Through the dusk,
Through the dawn,
Beyond mountains,
Beyond stones,
Standing strong,
Wandering lost,
World ahead,
Home behind,
Paths on and on,
'Till the road comes along...


Copyright © Ruben Alejandro Hernandez Diaz | Year Posted 2013

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Her Masterpiece Is Her Story-part two

(please read "Her Masterpiece Is Her Story" before reading the second part. It'll make more sense and probably be more enjoyable!)

The girl who has beautiful scars,
And the boy with marks of strength,
Are now separated by distance,
And that is causing some teenage angst.

The girl wonders how the boy is doing.
Her paintbrush calls her name.
The two can't talk right now,
And she feels she's to blame.

The girl's best friend is lonely,
And she isn't much better.
The only way honesty is revealed,
is through a heart felt letter.

Her scars are fading away,
Everyone knows her secret, so she can't add to the art.
She's wishing she could draw more cuts,
At night the voices in her mind take over her heart.

Her masterpiece is disappearing,
Her artwork is going away.
"What caused you to do this!??!" her family asks.
"I...I hate myself." is all she can say.

She's trying to be okay,
If not for herself then for her friends,
If there's one thing she can't take,
It's their fatal ends.

But she doesn't know how the boy is,
She doesn't know his feeling,
Her mind is going crazy, 
Her sanity is reeling.

Since she doesn't know how the boy is doing,
Her anxious mind is filled with worry,
Her demons have told her something.
They're telling her the worst horror story.

Her masterpiece is fading, 
I've told you this before.
Her scars are going away,
She wants to make more.

But she doesn't make any.
For the sake of those she loves.
She restrains from her paintbrush.
Even though it fits like a glove.

Her story is continuing, 
Her painting isn't dry.
But her canvas is even more,
down upon her thigh.

Maybe she'll erase some drawings.
She's trying to be okay. 
She actually doesn't want to get better.
But what am I supposed to say?

Be honest and say she doesn't want that?
Be truthful and say she doesn't care?
Because in her life right now,
Having no motivation? She wouldn't dare!

She misses the life she had before.
She didn't mind hiding her own part of her life.
She would just cope her own way.
She'd cope by using a knife.

Maybe one day she'll draw on an actual paper,
Or paint with an actual paintbrush,
But right now with her anxiety,
She feels that there is no rush.

Don't worry about the girl.
She just cries every night.
But she has to keep going,
Her best friend is in near sight.

It'll be alright everyone,
I'll keep you up to date,
The girl's painting will continue.
If that's the artist's fate. 


Copyright © Madison Marie | Year Posted 2013

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LOVE, ANGELS, and MUSIC

LOVE God is always love Forever seek the kingdom; Praise the creator Keep giving what you can give Please endure until the end ANGELS Beautiful Heavens Protecting the meek ones earth Watching over us Helping us to cope with life Comforted with hope and trust MUSIC When you find rhythm You find your hearts inner core Celebrate the times Make them better than before Reminisce and dance all night


Copyright © humble b | Year Posted 2013

Details | Stress Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Stressing

Stress is starting to overwhelm me;
It’s certainly wearing on my health.
To many stressors all surround me:
Lack of time, lack of wealth,
Adult children always sponging off me…
Are pushing me into early death.

My landlord is not helping;
He’s forcing us to leave.
The mess my children made
Is something nobody would believe.
I’ts too late for cleaning.

I’ll be changing occupations
If interviews go well.
The uncertainty amplifies frustrations…
Certain Purgatory, uncertain Hell.

Hoping for tomorrow,
A better day…
Beg, steal, borrow.

I’m stressed.
I’m stressed!

Help!



Copyright © Mark J. Halliday | Year Posted 2014

Details | Stress Poem | Create an image from this poem.

The Effects of Stress

Stress
My hearts pounding
A steady thrum
That's drawing closer
A pain in my chest
With every single breath.

Stress
My hair is falling,
It pulls out in my hands
I cry as it wraps
around my fingers
with every strand.




Copyright © Jay Loveless | Year Posted 2014

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Ana

She writes her songs and her poems,
not one person know 'em.
She listens to the sound of her music,
she's stuck to it like a tick.

If someone took the time to listen,
her true colors would glisten.
She's put on a mask,
and hid everything when someone asked.

She was the type of girl who would always laugh,
making you wish it would last.
She was the type of girl who would smile the day away,
too bad it is no longer that way.

She is now the girl who is depressed,
I bet you're impressed.
Since no one could tell
that she was going through hell.

Everyone thought she was happy, 
when really, she felt crappy.
Everyone thought she was having the time of her life,
who would have guess her best friend was a knife?

She spent her days alone,
she seemed to do everything on her own.
Never once wanted help.
Thought she could do everything herself.

Then the day came,
when she lost the game.
She fell apart,
and everyone saw her broken heart.

They saw the way she overreacted.
Oh, if only you saw the way she acted.
She bruised herself, scratched herself, and made herself bleed,
no one knew what it was that she needed.

They saw her tears,
and that was what she feared.
They found out she wasn't okay,
oh, she hated that day.

Everyone found out about her secret,
and she wish they'd just forget,
but she knew they couldn't,
and that they wouldn't.

She left that town and started over,
no one knew she went undercover.
She said she got better,
when really... something else occurred. 

She secretly hurt herself,
and walked away from help.
Everyone thought she recovered,
when really, she was undercover.

She secretly wanted to get worse,
no one knew of course.
No one cared to ask,
if she was wearing her mask.

Now it's too late,
she locked the gate.
Killed herself,
everyone had forgotten she needed help.

Goodbye cold world,
this was a story of a girl
who once loved everyone
then feared who it was who won.


Copyright © Ana Jusino | Year Posted 2013

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THE LAST DAYS

The days seem to go by so fast. there is a void in the air, the birds have lost their vibrant beat, the ocean has lost its luster, the soil feels solid and dry.
 
My soul feels as if it has left my body before my death, my dreams haunt my day, the tears stain my steps, my doctor says that it is depression, I say that it is reality, I am intoxicated by society,I am numb by perscriptions.
 
Why do I feel so isolated within myself? is there no one in my painfully tight shoes? can anyone understand my pain? can anyone melt in my sorrows? why am I this way? why is the world so cruel? why can't I be normal?
 
Wait! I am normal, what am I saying, I know now, the veil has been lifted, humanity is my enemy, the sins that drip from their sweat, the dread that follows their shadows, their souls of black, their intentions of greed pull a shade across their eyes.
 
They are destined for doom, they will not be saved, they will not find salvation, they belittle me, they curse me, they shame me, but they are right about one thing, I am different, unlike them, I will be saved in the last days.


Copyright © stephanie hanvey | Year Posted 2013

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Seed Of Friendship-A dedication

L-iving in a world of vast 
souls formed from 
another voided world,
E-ntering thru portals 
from their world to earth.
O-ozing spetacular smell 
and wail when the chips 
are down.
N-urtured from cradle to 
adulthood-independent
entity with a new world 
to face.
O-rganizes oneself for the 
task ahead,passing thru 
hurdles of life unabased 
and unabashed.
R-eaps the fruit of labor 
with joy or heavy heart.
A-ge sets in,mission 
accomplished or not will 
dawn on the entity.

I-n retrospect,he thinks 
about his childhood and 
how life was to him.

L-iving in confidence or 
shame,he bows his head 
in victory or defeat.
O-nly the taste of time 
will tell the durability of 
his achievements.
V-oid of preference the 
aim result bears the 
foundation for his lineage.
E-njoyment or lack lies 
with the works of the 
man,for there is no food 
for the slothful.

Y-oung ones,a stitch in 
time saves nine,make 
haste while the sun 
shines.
O-iling your lamb always 
like the ten virgins is the 
key to success.
U-rging you to shun peer 
pressure and focus on 
the course marked out 
for you by fate,so a 
fulfilled life you shall live.





An acrostic for you 
Leonora Galinita.


Copyright © Ifeanyi Bob Ekechukwu | Year Posted 2013

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A Perfect-

A perfect crime.
The paper the victim,
the weapon a pen.

A perfect time.
The thoughts in my head,
a prayer, I say, amen.

A perfect day.
The mood is right,
it is time to begin.

A perfect way.
So I write, Father please,
forgive me for my sin.

A perfect start.
The liquid poison,
slowly kills the page.

A perfect heart.
Slowly breaking,
from all the rage.

A perfect death.
Please go in peace,
Your soul to keep.

A perfect breath.
For it's the last,
please don't weep.


Copyright © Sienna Ethylpen | Year Posted 2013

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MY ANXIETY

I look at the calendar Check the date and time My appointment looms Just three days to go I light a lavender scented candle And inhale the soothing scent It calms my nerves Only three days to go I dread the though of the mammogram machine Squeezing and squashing my breasts Will my lump turn out to be cancer Or just a benign cyst Just three days to go Just three days to go And then I may know Anxiety Contest Sponsored by Lewis Raynes 02~25~17 I discovered a lump in my breast and my mammogram is on 28th Feb which is Shrove Tuesday or pancake day. I have to see the humourous side of it … it sure will squash my breasts as flat as pancakes.


Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2017

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Don't Stress Christmas

The northern skies are turning gray -- 
Seems the sun just doesn’t linger.
Christmas is just a month away, 
And the nights are getting longer.
That Thanksgiving spent with family—
A briefly pleasant holiday—
Was forgotten all too quickly 
By pushy crowds on Black Friday.

Our gift checklist seems like old Saint Nick’s, 
But our staff is lacking Elves.
Shopping trips cause daily panics. 
I wonder how we’ll feed ourselves.
We must buy more decorations, 
So the yard looks like it’s snowing.
We fall deeper in depressions 
As our credit keeps on growing. 

Lord forgive commercialism 
For ruining every Christmas.
Lord forgive consumerism 
For dumping on us all that stress.
December is a dreary time, 
Even when little angels sing.
The irony of Christmas time 
Was that Christ was born in the Spring. 

While standing in the checkout line, 
Remember what the carols told.
Think of how Bethlehem’s star once shined, 
As Israel’s prophets foretold.
Think of the awe of the shepherds 
When they saw angels fill the air.
Coming to the stable, entered, 
To meet the Holy Family there. 

Instead of spending all you have, 
Next November and December,
Spend time with all of those you love, 
And teach them what to remember.
"A Savior born in Bethlehem" 
Should bring us joy and happiness;
And “ Peace on Earth, goodwill to men” 
Should set us free, not bring us stress.


Copyright © Mark J. Halliday | Year Posted 2014

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How, When and Why


According to my neighborhood, 
(All experts on the topic), 
Opinions vary, none too good, 
One called it "Catastrophic". 

Exterminators sigh, refrain 
Condolences, I'm sorry. 
At City Hall, they're shocked, exclaim
They have no such Department 
 

To know that squirrels are running wild, 
I hear them as they scamper. 
An attic is a sacred place, 
Secure, not meant to tamper. 

Their next move, chewing all the wire 
And gnawing through the rafters. 
I hear them squeak a vermin's choir 
And hear my own crazed laughter. 

That life dare heave this final ho, 
But agents know thier timelines. 
The hours when the house is shown,
Their outdoor play, the best time.

I also left the scheduled due
When freight train horns will pass through.



Gene Bourne
08-26-14




.



Copyright © Gene Bourne | Year Posted 2014

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Back To Rio

Take me back, to good old Rio
Let me lie there in the Sun
Then take a ride to Capo Ferro
Dancing Samba, having fun
And the girls will all be prancing
In the waves along the shore
Eating crab and fish together
That were caught the day before
As my passion starts increasing 
Like the heat upon the grill
With all the stress now I'm releasing
I don't miss the northern chill
Take me back to good old Rio
Let me stay there to the end
No yesterdays or tomorrows
The place where night and day, just blends
Take me back.....



Copyright © Jerry T Curtis | Year Posted 2015

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Truth, Shines Ever So Brightly

Truth, Shines Ever So Brightly

I was once wrapped it teeth and thick fur
ferocious and ghastly beast was me.
I was a bad dog, a wicked little cur
whipping and snapping at every small flea.

One day, the sun burnt my covering hide
and exposed my hideous skin to see.
Such truth, this heart could not abide
stung me ever so sharply like a bee.

Now comes time to hold less as much more
walk a different path free and alone.
Yes, light filtered through that sad door
where my greatest folly was then shown.

I was once wrapped in thick, shiny scales
Now a deep truth destroys those tall tales.

Robert J. Lindley, 1-09-2016


Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2016

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PrEmAtUrE aGiNg

pReMaTuRe AgInG
an older woman and a younger man are a trix in between because as his love blooms he sees himself aging. _________________________|
penned on august 31, 2014!


Copyright © Verlena S. Walker | Year Posted 2014

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Reality's Angel

I am Reality’s angel resting on the broad shoulders of discovery the truth feeds darkness and engulfs its target ideas and concepts in turn become meaningless to you there is a creator of all things He is just and patient many still have fallen into the masses of shadow wrapped in their own filthy idols of philosophy I have seen grown men fall like rose petals and weaklings rise into unjust leaders forever the follower of furtive evil dominating only to remain inferior the most important answers lie in the unseen regions where no sense can fully give assurance the mind that so many unreasonably twist and turn grows weary because of the distance it must take and truth be told the distance is not what frustrates it is knowing we are seeking something far that could very possibly not exist, that our minds can twist into theoretical, idealistic nonsense it is knowing all we really think we know is meaningless and yes—even a lie all that has been written thus far rests under my wings under the warmth in which you refuse to feel can you believe in me— though I am completely unseen? how much more difficult would it be to see Him?


Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2013

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Bigfoot and I

I have no cause to lie,
my memory is clear.
The night was cool, the moon rising.
Fresh scents from a passing rain captures the air.
My campfire kept me warm from the damp forest,
its light reflecting dancing shadows.
I felt relaxed and calm, stress had fled,
from my world of constant work.
My coffee was now ready when I heard a branch snap,
off to my left'
The furious rustle of branches pierced my ears.
A strong musky stench filled the air, surrounding me.
My heart raced as I stared into the darkness,
trying to see what had came near my camp.
I was alone, fire my only defense, but from what?
A sound, a low bellowing sound,
cracked the foundations of my belief.
A beast nine feet tall appeared from the thick bush
and stood quietly still.
I had no where to run or hide.
The beast consumed the space in front of my eyes.
It walked towards me hands out, palms up.
I was confused,disoriented, frightened,
until I saw from the crackling flames,
porcupine quills.
The pain in its eyes burned into me, crying out for help.
I reached over and calmly pulled each one out,
lifting me eyes to its face each time.
It seems I heard a low rumble that sounded like relief.
This beast, this huge beast looked down on me.
The silence could have sliced through ice.
It suddenly turned and walked away.
leaving me trembling with a fire and shadows.
I slowly picked up my cup of coffee,
still looking into the bush, still frightened.
My legs stop quivering as I sat on a log,
next to my fire and smiled,
knowing no one would believe me.

4/16/15
Frederic Parker



Copyright © Frederic Parker | Year Posted 2015

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The Wasteland -Part 1-

How can one express the baffling depths of obscurity? How can one behold to open the shafts of the mind? I have never been able to solve the mystery— Of myself. . . I wish at times that my life was no more That I could live as another and finally see things right But I am always stuck in this darkness And I cannot see this mind in light There are beasts. . .demons prowling through the wasteland Searching for any remaining life And if they are ever found— They are doomed and consumed Fear is their downfall and they never fail to smell it Their ashes remain, dancing with the imaginary breeze It is silent here—there are no answers I wish there were answers. . . But maybe there was never a reason No answers. . . Talons extend and clench around my heart They will never seek me out—they left me here It is like they knew…I had no reason—that was the answer I feel the pulse of my dangling life Alone in the dark, whimpering like a child I have scared myself, becoming this dragon-daggered youth No balm in Gilead! No eyes to see All I know will never be free I don’t need anyone! You are a disgrace—scum of the waste! You have everything, you ungrateful little nothing You are a joke. . . So swallow it all up like the pushover you are Stand your lowest and trudge right through No questions. No answers. Just . You. Or just lie back down into the mush of disease It has already infected you to the core Accept who you are, you ugly pestilence! I hate you Who are you to be glorified? Dream snatcher. . .murderer of all things bright Saturated in what you call light I see right through—even as the reflections shatter All of the dead kept you alive—they all matter… But alive you are the worst there is False savior—edited attention whore I never want to see your face again See, that’s why I hide. . . Desperation. . .desperation. . . I sob and cry kneeling in defeat For once I am right. . .I am right


Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2013