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'06 His Consumer Report
Folder:
2006 How many times do I have to comb the wind with my fingers?
Why do I have to write this love crap that does not even exist?
How many sleepless nights does my mind have to ponder?
Why do all these hypocritical writings involve slashing wrists?
How do I live thinking; writing about humans burning to a cinder?
Why do I bother adding more foolishness to the stupid list?
How I kill myself to leave others in wonderous and disgusting humor.
Hmmm... I wonder why you titled this 'consumer report'. Did you get a copy of your credit report or something and got angry and wrote this poem? Kinda cool
Melissa Marina Flores