Monday, June 22

Cigar Truth

Smoking a cigar.
Red pale eyes.
Sad from bottom.
Dry blood, broken veins.

An idiot at the seaside, smiling at the waves.
Feeling so lost and lost with life, lost everything that conquered him.
Hated by everyone.

I feel so heavy,
Heavy at my thinking, that I couldn’t resist him from dying.
So I stabbed him,
Again and again so as to make sure he is no more to take away my lady luck.
With a cigar.

No comments:

Post a Comment

The Line

It is meant to be the way it is to be, deeper it goes, better cutting yourself with a butter knife, it hurts more, I don’t want to ...