A man, a pen and a piece of paper
Quite a sad sight really
But boy is it a sight to behold
No no NO!
Let me stop you right there
He's not a writer, nor a poet.
No, not him!
He's just a bleeding soul
And that piece of paper
The only bandaid he ever had.
About the Creator
Day 4 of Quitting
If this is how sobriety feels, maybe it’s better to go through life a little buzzed… this, along with other hits like, I want to kill myself, I wish I was dead, and I’m going to throw myself off a bridge have been the only thoughts on rotation these past few days. I promise myself that if, in a month, I still feel like this (‘this’ meaning despondent, full of rage, and simultaneously numb) I can go back to smoking. Until mid-February though? Nicotine is off the table.
By sleepy drafts6 days ago in Longevity
Comments (1)
Love the ending lines of your poem: "He's just a bleeding soul / And that piece of paper / The only bandaid he ever had." A vivid image!