Talk to me, I know you're dying to speak,
To pick apart your brains until you feel half way complete,
Eating all these pills until the secrets leak,
From your brain to your mouth and you're spitting demons in your sleep.
The weed and beer couldn't ever save us,
But as if it would cushion our fall we chased the buzz,
Two sides of one argument, "well you shouldn't", ...
Thursday 5th April 2012 11:54 am
Tags: acceptance, death, Demons, life, problems