Obrie Writes Biography

Why in this damn world,
Must the sickness of the dead,
Be the constitution,
By which am judged?
...

A rope round her neck
As she hung on the broken hopes
Hopes of a world where she,
As a woman would stand.
...

Which part of being okay
Do I look like?
The reality part,
The delusional part
...

My pencil broke in the midst
Of a romantic poem for you.
And I have a hoarse throat,
I cannot sing this affection to you.
...

Just how many!
How many meals,
How much can cure
This will to survive
...