Must be this life catching up with me
Tired of dodging bullets
Like cheap insults on the streets
Looking like death
In the midst of hell
Stuck with this wasted life
Blue eyes muddled dull brown
Fallen smack dab in a hill of dirt
I am worthless
Shovel another layer on top
Bury me further
Time for a cheap trick
Then an eight ball
Sweet surrender
I'd rather blow with the winds
Then crawl with the rats
Done at twenty-one
Failed the school of hard knocks
Life chewed me up and spit me out
Can't sleep, sheep counting sucks
Whole life trapped in the 'hood
Sleep eludes me
Counting back from one hundred
Prancing sheep behind closed eyes
Until the very end
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem