Help me, I am dying
my throat is closing and every breathe is laboured
my head is a drug-addled fog & I may not greet the sunrise
tell them I am sorry--I only tried to be human
this line is my exitus, I can encourage them no longer
& they will only smile knowingly on the news of my swift death
only remember the unending hopelessness of my romanticism.
1 comment:
Dying a slow death by Tonsilitis is always an experience best shared.
If I was the person that gave you Tonisilitis, I'd be grovelling for forgiveness!
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