- V
How can one hold on,
Running in that vile sewage water of fate,
Clutching at those weak stems on the grassy bank,
Hoping for a small chance to carry on.
But what is there to live for?
The lonely drunken nights when memories haze,
Those mornings when headaches pound the skull,
When you wonder if you can be holding another life inside?
No... You can't carry on. Not like this.
Leave this world.
Come back born again.
Restart.
Anew.
Old bones and flesh wait for no-one.
And the knife comes down on her.
The water fills with her blood.
She is reborn.
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Just poems about headaches, heartaches and life in the concrete jungle when you're a depressed little no-body with nothing better to do... Enjoy! POEM TAGS
THE GOODS
You're currently reading a chapter in the poem
Aches and Pains of Suburbia. This chapter
was posted on Dec 28, 2010 by
RouxEdwards.
This is a solo poem.
About this poem
"Just poems about headaches, heartaches and life in the concrete jungle when you'..."
This poem is filed under:
Abstract, Imagery, Teen / Young Adult
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