This thing really bugs the crap out of me.
It's like zombies and the end of the world.
Like having your mom call you a sweet pea.
Like getting flattened out or unfurled.
Like why does this have to happen to me?
Why do I have to deal with this thing?
Pounding on the walls of a box to free.
On the edge of a cliff you barely cling,
This is the feeling I get deep inside.
It is nailed to the back of my head.
Not leaving my mind with some sort of pride.
Still there, even when I lie there in bed.
To this thing stuck in my head, I say "Hi".
But, please leave and give someone else a try.
Share This Poem