Iconbryant
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CATEGORY
life
Empty bottles,
no chasers follow,
the room is spinning.
Feeling hollow,
it’s hard to swallow,
we're all sinning.
No bravado
in modest tomorrows
with blurred vision.
Silence.
Get out.
Cut the lights off,
I need a minute.
As I battle with myself,
shadows can’t even witness.
Empty bottles,
no chasers follow,
the room is spinning.
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COMMENTS
love_supreme says: Very nice. |
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A.Effect says: Great poem |
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Coalhouse says: Dope |
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