• Pathetic Spoken Word Poetry Attempt

    And while I sit here in my chair,
    Biting my nails, playing with the hair,
    On my head, I’m aware,
    Of the things left unsaid, unseen, like the un-dead,
    But don’t dread, they wake up, shake up,
    Break up, just like the lost souls of the world,
    Slowly entering a bitter hate,
    Everyone who showed up late,
    For their funeral, in a white church,
    Where hurt can’t reach their own fate,
    Which was do die, so why cry, even if you never bothered,
    To say goodbye, did you love them?
    Hate them? Look up to them?
    The silence fills the room, fills your eyes,
    Still you lie, pretend like they’re really gone,
    As if it’s not wrong, to make a decision,
    Based on comfort, ‘cause you can’t handle what life throws at you,
    Makes you blue, as if you already knew,
    This would be the last time I sat in my chair,
    Biting my nails and playing with the hair,
    On my head, like you already guessed – I’m dead.