10. Worst September
10. Worst September
You curl yourself up on the bed,
Hiding beneath the thick wool covers,
You try to block off everything they've said,
Wondering where's the fiery passion of September,
You wake up thinking it's all a dream,
Until you notice the missing red car,
Things are so bad, worst than it seems,
But you walk out of the house bright as a star,
As you double up laughing at lame jokes,
You're screaming inside out of sorrow & terror,
As you're attentive and rapidly copying down notes,
You're wondering if it's come true, your worst fear,
The library's silence is unbearably deafening,
And your inner voices are taking advantage of it,
Chapter 2, Psychology, none of it is going in,
Your heart it hemorrhage, it bleeds,
You fill your ear with Sugarcult's Worst December,
You force your mind to absorb the words,
Tomorrow's the 11th of September,
Year after every damn year, it only gets worst.
Author's Note: i know it's not a nice poem. i feel so too. don't ask why i wrote this, go figure.
Labels: Seasons of September
stoned @ 8:30 PM
______________________________
Listen...
Drip,
From my slit wrist,
My life.
Drip,
From my sad eyes,
My dreams.
Flow,
Gone; my life.
Shattered; my dreams.
-
Kai Teoh, Seasons of September