I can’t stop tripping backwards.
Every time a set of hands slows my fall,
my back breaks on the ground, again.
again, again
a fucking gain.
When did repetition turn into
an improvement?
Author notes
srsly, fuckmylife.
Every hand that has tried to reach out now has a finger missing from where I've chomped down. What is wrong with my mind?
Comments
1 - 7 of 7
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good poem
well done... it's a good poem indeed with rich idea and done well in poetic way -
Nothing is wrong with your mind... it happens to everyone at some point in their life.
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I tend to like everything you write
my texting ran out btw..
ghey
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Oh, I figured you had gotten tired of me.
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Wat
Never
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oye, chika; por tu, soy aqui. todos los dias.
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yo sé. te quiero.
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