PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I am sick of talking in metaphors. 

I am tired of leaving out the broad details

Its time to say it how it is. 

I am homeless again. Sleeping on a couch. 

Everything I own inside an Adidas bag. 

I work my hands to the bone. 

Time and time again. 

Just to be casted out. 

I guess I am better without. 

Do or die. Sometimes I plan to try. 

To come up with a way 

To make death look like an accident. 

I am cold and alone. Freezing in the snow. 

The nights I spent sleeping in my truck

In the febuary winter weather. 

How do I gather my life together. 

No more tools witch means no more work. 

No more instruments means no more music. 

No more anything besides work uniforms 

A phone and a letter I should now burn. 

What have I learned? 

That my family lost trust in me. 

Adopted a new kid. A younger child. 

In hopes he won't be like me. 

So here I sit as I contemplate to slit 

Shit. Give me a reasons not to rip

My skin I mean it's my skin 

Why not lick my own blood 

To return to my senses. 

I hate life. 

Her ways can't be trusted. 

Alone in the dark. 

My mind is restless 

Depressed and overstressed

Sorry I'll admit I am a mess. 

Its easy to accept change when chose it. 

Regardless I am to mentally frail to set sail. 

Out of meds. out of love. 

Out of my mind. 

Where will life draw the line. I am empty 

The bottom line. 

Destroy me more. Take my breath. 

Relive me of this stress. 

I am done. I now know I'll never be somone 

But this. This mess that I am.