Rock Bottom

Life has gone and love is spent.

I’m rabid in my countenance.

I fall I fall I hit the ground,

The cycle spinning round and round.

And if you fell as hard as me

You’d be impaled

Far far beneath the sea.

But I can’t even fall asleep.

Irony loves company.

Be gone from me, I’m used to this

I’m holding life in balled up fists.

No chance, no chance,

The pattern persists.

If I could only wake when I’m over this.

Though by that time I’ll be long dead,

With memories of loss at stead.

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Filed under poem, poetry

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