Monday, January 14, 2013


Sitting in a cold damp cage 
Too small for comforts woe 
I lay doing all I can to keep holding on 
At least 'till morning

Some twat on TV 
Blurted it out: 
Yesterday is always
The most depressing day of the year

Broken wings maintain me
Down on rocky ground,
Far below the clear blue skies
I wish to soar,

Screaming revolt for a wine debauchery,
Social adultery, a mid-youth cemetery
Quiet races for flags of gold and red and cobalt blue,
Acknowledgement to the masses.

Am I alive or am I dead
My greatest regrets
Repeating in my head.
Felling so empty and cold,

In this dark, lonely room,
I go to at night;
I write these dark, depressing poems,
Hoping you won’t catch a sight;

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