This Isn’t a Title It’s a Trainwreck

 

i'm too depressed for poetry

so i keep writing prose

that never goes anywhere

looking for happiness between

my legs and handstand kegs

i can't get hard anymore,

every woman i fuck pegs me

for a bore, a sunday morning chore

while the lord rests, i'm a rat's nest

born blessed by the fallen petal

of a proverbial rose, but who i am

is what i chose and this is why

i'll stick to writing prose

This poem is about: 
Me

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