frost smith


The Fog - Poem by frost smith

Treading in the mucus of the lungs of despair
A child franticly splashing around
Desperately trying to make enough noise so someone would notice
Alas no one does
So I sink to the bottom
Succumbing to a life tormented by inadequacy
Using the toxic lung butter of fear
To spread on the moldy bread of self deception
It feeds my insanity that no better life exist
I’m dying a slow starving death
Emaciated from a life spent without emotion
It is the bread killing me
But I do not know it


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Poem Submitted: Friday, June 13, 2008



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