It’s on fire
Broken multiplied by simply fucked!
Not like fine wine
But like something I can’t explain with this tongue
I’m left with the corners of my pillow
The least you can do God is send me a therapist!
To help gather me!
To help find my broken pieces!
Delaware and Pennsylvania !
Only God knows where else I am
On highways and corners
On bar stools and bedsides and alleyways !
That’s the least you can do God is send me somebody to help glue my ass back together!
I needed him
You could have took the child molester, the murderer or the rapist!
There was someone more deserving of death than him
God snatched the rug right from under me
I call God a murderer!
Yea, I said it, He is a murderer!
Not even deserving of the capital “H” or “G”
But since He got me nervous and afraid that I will be next
I reverence him
It’s just plain fear!
Not even the good decency to send him to me in a dream for a brief visit!
Just cruel and sadistic!
I have memories in the cracks of my walls
I will drown in this cheap grief
This isn’t even high-class grief
This is bottom feeder grief
Life was not kind to him
I hope for the day
I can smile again