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24-11-2024 or A Million Ways
Breathing in and out,
The intake was heat,
And I guess the retreat had my mouth freezing.
The glass of the ceiling,
Chips sank in my mouth,
Watch him make a rum neat.
Glass chips and my mouth’s now bleeding.
Met her parents and drowned from the greeting,
The guts men fake,
Reruns of my face had me teething.
Consistency,
Consistent poems are profoundly boring reading.
Wouldn’t you much rather something freshly bleeding ink?
Don’t you think?
One cliff edge and they consider you,
I don’t know.
Suicidal?
The difference between depression and a quitter is entirely their willingness to commit,
And I don’t mean suicide,
Not that you need reminders at all.
Horses wear blinders to hide them from more,
Sight is a hindrance when you’re trained to just see the race,
Not the war.
But that’s behind us after all,
Serbian’s are like “race this”,
We behave in the face of our fellow Croatians.
But in truth Serbian’s are just some haters.
Why’s it wrong to feel depression in a million ways?
The lessons returned could save me a lifetime,
Or at least a couple days.
Copyright ©
R.P. Grcic
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