a man standing alone
lighting a cigarette of empty lies
wishing his life was different
wanting a purpose
a life torn to pieces
by his lose of love
never knowing that leisure
never having joy
wondering the streets
soaked in the rain
blowing out his money
and burning more
lighting another after another
burning more and more until my wallet starts to burn
nothing maters to him
his walks alone
but his habit makes him feel happy
each time he inhales
he dies more
even though he's already dead.
Author notes
Written October 28th, 2006
What did you think
Comments
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a, if this is you, i can see you as a writer.
this is great. nice write.
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wow that was really good i loved it
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