Rotten (Poem)

The goal is to tell you something.

That is tears were gold my cheeks are spoiled rotten

and not from being sad but the pain from falling on my ass. Putting my foot

in my mouth, I have holes in my hard bottoms.

From pacing the floor

wondering when it’s boards will save my wailing cords from the chains

of your name.

Misery…I hate to call you. I wish I never met you.

Sometimes we cross the lane without looking both ways and it’s a two way street.

I guess I want to get ran over one car at a time.

Then  sue the driver for noticing light and moving their feet.

Who knew people would jump in the street.




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