The cold December air cuts in, as my lower lip bleeds,
I’m alone and shivering, looking at my life sift in vain,
I’m in agony, my soul is sundered,
Yet all I realize is I find peace in all the pain.
I most definitely expect my mentor and my most regular reader to instantly come up with the words “Melancholy... Not again!” But this is not just another piece of poetry, this is a fact that I've come to terms with in the past few days. And queerly, I’m not even bothered by it. I don’t give a shit. I don’t care. My life’s a living hell and I love it.
1 comments:
Then because i'm not a mentor to you, melancholy.....not again.
Come on man, variety is the spice of life, i know u are writing from the heart but until you challenge yourself, to do something beyond ur instincts, you will never know. and everyone else would be kept waiting....cheers and see ya tmrw....
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