@Preston_Andie
They said everyone becomes a poet someday in their lives.... They said poetry is the voice that speaks when your lips are too shy.... They say poetry writes on heart and souls like pencil on paper and walls ..... But I can't find enough puns to make things here fantastic....And my poetry cannot handle to much punchlines so that they call it puntastic.
It's days like this that I want to walk to our living room and hug my father.... Tell him good by and run to the garage with a knife.... It's is days like today... Where you suffer tremendous pain in your soul... And the silent neighborhood of your home doesn't really solve it....
This is where the breath in and out exercise don't work.....This is where I text all my friends and tell them good by till we meet again... Do you really understand.... My self sores....I want to close my eyes and pick my father's firearm and the bang be my goodbye...
This is where I go to the kitchen.... Take a look at my mother cooking and I take the table knife and go to my bedroom... No one will notice I'm gone... I swear... They don't even notice my presence this day.... I'll write names on a piece of paper.. those that I really love and those that I wanted them to love back....
This rooms are so noisy.... This are the days I want to let out my neighbor's hound. And let him devour me mercilessly... Do they think the pain matters... It would be once and goodbye will be how he licks his muzzle.
I want to go to my family doctor... Ask for an overdose of acetaminophen... Sleep sleep and never wake up... Or take an overdose of laxitive tablets.... Drown in my bathtub goodbye...I want to go to my family garden.... Take a rope.... I know how scary it would be when you all watch me kicking my life away... But that will be it...
My goodbye signed in thick red blood.... And it would be good bye in deed.....
©Hurt_Surgeon🐾
Beblogpreston.blogspot.com
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