The dehydrated working class poet. Not afraid to admit I'm wrong. Just hard being wrong for so long.
Tuesday, 8 November 2016
The end of the end
I'm looking for a cure.
To end this endless battle
And try to win this war.
But my mind has other ideas.
It doesn't care or so it seems.
It just wants the easy route
To destroy all my dreams.
I like dancein on tables and gettin drunk, drunk enought to fall and stumble, to know im lost and feel its ok to mumble. time takes to long so im tryin to express how i feel. but the question is always there is any of this real?
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