- here's a little poem i wrote while suffering on the ward.
the days are dark and weary
when did my life become so dreary
it’s always struggle
it truly hard to be a muggle
up and down through the day
i have so much I need to say
starting with i’m not okay
i’m going down the long hard way
is there some sort of out?
truly that’s all i think about..
getting low, low & lower
somebody grab the lucky clover
because if I can’t get out
i’m gonna sit here and pout
but please Lord take my pain
it’s rapidly effecting my brain
too many thoughts inside
even though i keep my bible by my bedside
seriously is today the end?
i think not, because of my kind friend
but to be honest i’ve given up
it’s the lower half of the cup
as death is calling my name
the real voice seems to stay the same
thank you God for saving me
even though I’ve ruined it with pee
actually death is inevitable
Can barely sit still at my table
i’m ready to die
don’t even need to say goodbye
hello there, there child
your life is just a little wild
