This Isn’t a Title It’s a Trainwreck

 

i'm too depressed for poetry

so i keep writing prose

that never goes anywhere

looking for happiness between

my legs and handstand kegs

i can't get hard anymore,

every woman i fuck pegs me

for a bore, a sunday morning chore

while the lord rests, i'm a rat's nest

born blessed by the fallen petal

of a proverbial rose, but who i am

is what i chose and this is why

i'll stick to writing prose

This poem is about: 
Me

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741