• Suicide


    Getting started to drink away,

    Captain Morgan’s parrot bay

    All this pain that stings so deep

    Drinking till I fall asleep

    Should have stayed my ass at work

    I’ve been an ass and a jerk

    All day long I’ve been drinking

    All these thoughts I’ve been thinking

    to find my way where I belong

    Like hearing the same old song

    Stupid shit it sounds the same

    Things I write are so lame

    Bored as hell still not drunk

    I called my friend a fucking punk

    I caught a buzz and a bit tipsy

    I should become a fucking gypsy

    Moving on and left behind

    All that waits is what I find

    No home I know that ’s my own

    All the things I’ve been shown

    Has got me here and no better

    Simple words in a letter

    Say I’m late and didn’t know

    Noisy owl, screaming crow

    Annoying me as they follow

    Knowing me, I am hollow

    My ass I work , I’m so broke

    This job I have is a joke

    4 dollars less than I deserve

    A ball to hit in a curve

    I’m sick of this game we play

    Each and every single day

    As the days keep passing by

    The less I care, the less I try

    I’ve forgot the point to life

    Soothing end, sharpened knife

    Through my skin blood still flowing

    Flashing back days of growing

    Dad and things I blocked out

    Beating me as I shout

    Metal buckle rips my skin

    Because I’m bad and I sin

    Worthless child, scream at me

    Lost the sparkle I used to see

    Not quite alive anymore

    Blood still pouring on the floor

    Dreary times, there were so many

    Happy times, I haven’t any

    Hoping death is coming soon

    On this night in early June

    I gasp for air not worth breathing

    For this life I am leaving

    Farewell my friends and all of you

    Why I’m dead, you’ll have no clue……

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    Oblaidon commented on suicide


    kijealy, I can see you're torn apart. In God' trust place your heart.

    Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

    Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

    kijealy’s Poems (48)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    Rest in pieces 0
    never lover 0
    never lover 0
    the truth to silence 1
    of dust and memories 1
    drop it all 1
    forget about it 0
    i nreally don't care 0
    twisted mockery 0
    wall of ice 0
    black rein 0
    sweet summer spells 1
    knew you knew 1
    consumed 0
    shadows calling 3
    bloody hell 2
    see inside my cube.... 0
    truely touched 2
    wide awake 3
    upset 0
    twisted 1
    tomorrow 0
    suicide 1
    sober b 4 i started 0
    sob story 1
    so i'm saved 2
    rising up 0
    poison 0
    perfection doesn't exist 0
    passion 0
    myself 0
    last time 0
    a time of waiting 0
    july 3rd 0
    jibberish 0
    inside of you 0
    i lost my touch 0
    ha-ha! 1
    feeding demons 0
    endless night 0
    drivin around in my automobile 0
    dreams 0
    darkness 1
    closer 0
    chatter 1
    a bedtime story 4 my sleepy friend 0
    3 19 0
    collage 0