Categories > Original > Poetry0 Reviews
A thing about stuff. Don't care about things, it's not worth it.
the prime of my adolescence
here, sitting looking at the rain
i find myself
strangled by a violent apathy.
A dead and withered daisy chain
hangs limply before my hopeless eyes
and the rain gets angrier.
And wondering if, had i cared a little more,
i could feel that pain
i'd grown so used to.
I don't miss you, nor can i live without you-
don't come back to me
but never forget those times we shared
cold in the dark,
lifeless and bleeding on the floor