Poetry From The Weakened Soul
Author: Neil Evans

Chapter 127
Hell Of A Year, Weather's Perfect, To Me

Life is an extraordinary thing.
Just an ordinary, shitty thing.
But I'm just a horrible person,
I guess I don't deserve you.
Go figure. I know that, already.
Do you have to remind me?
And you have to lie to me,
With every squeal and grit
Of your evil, perfect teeth.
You are perfection, I guess.
You are the one I despise.
You are everything, yeah.
You're nothing to me, no.
Somebody show me the
Silver lining in our remains.
Remnants and lost souls,
Traveling the sea, but I think,
We're the closest to death.
I know where you've been,
Yeah, you don't think I know.
Your mouth, a thousand lies,
Your face, a thousand times.
Where does it all go, little girl?
Where does it all go, big girl?
Where does all your love belong?

 

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