Same Old Bulls#it

Same old Bulls#its in my head
Same cold feet that

feel like lead

Stomach that growls
When it hasn't been fed

So i call you up
To break me down
Nearly every time
You come around

As these tapestries
That you'd weave for me
Their colors and things make
So one cant really see

All chasing the obsession
That has no confession
To break this world down
As aya lifelong profession

And mixed up in atonement
Somehow feels

liek u 0Wn iT

So now lets try and forget
This entire F#ckn m0ment
Saturday, June 17, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: words
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