PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Sadness is a warm gun

and it rocks me completely

Can't seem to earn the time

to buy a dime

without feeling the sickle

of a taxed nickel

Can't seem to embrace a soulmate

for reasons formed in youth

and obliterated

by a series of aching truths

rooted in self-abandonment

under sinking roof 

confined and conformed

alone

aloof 

I'm not proud of my pessimism

I don't wear this shit and floss

but sometimes I bear this big motherfucking cross

by choice

for a reason.

for you.

I'll never ask for pity

but I never hope you fully understand

this plight

I hope my silence

blossoms mutual insight over time

that cannot grow in the mine field

of our tattered random collections

of embattled gray matter

Sadness is a warm gun

but decay's the real killer

Find a new muse

or fucking wither