An Attempt at Poetry

 

I write from a place that holds secrets

Sex, alcohol, drugs, you know what the deal is

We all lock it away to get a taste of freedom

But it always brings us back to its kingdom

 

The constant desire for fulfillment

It's easy to see how it's considered an ailment

I wouldn't say I'm addicted

No, I'm actually pretty well off outside of that shit

 

We all look for something to fill a void

But what happens when that thing is destroyed

We fill it with the next best feeling,

And it never leads to healing

 

Days full of people

Followed by nights full of pain

Emotions on a steep hill

My bed is for the rain

 

What happens when we get sick of all this

When we're ready to get down to the basic shit

Wife, children, and a home, that's all on my wish list

But I just gotta find that one to fit with

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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