Oh hai dere. Here be some of my poetry.
This one was written at a pretty intense time in my life where I was sick of where I was at. Critique appreciated.
I exist, but am I alive?
Am I merely content to strive to survive,
Christmas cookies and xbox live?
Crumbling to tears when plans fall trough,
and I'm just not able to hang out with you.
I've given up on my daily bread.
I gave up when it got hard, turned my back and fled.
Scrambling through the world's trash for moldy bread.
I kick and I thrash, anything to feel fed...
For an hour. For a minute. For a second.
Bible full of regrets because I never read it.
Working hard to ignore my problems and make money.
Fumbling through conversations trying to be funny.
Working to make some dough to make some bread.
There is no reason to work in a material world,
To make material money for material wants.
If this is how my life is going to be, I may as well be dead.
Digging through the world's trash trying to feel free...
My God, is this really me?
Calculating numbers and reading letters...
Shameful web searches and other fetters...
This is hopeless, this is pointless.
You are hopeless, you feel worthless.
Do you really believe this is all there is?
You exist, but are you alive?
Some of my poetry
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