Rule Number One

Tue, 12/11/2018 - 23:02 -- RendaMo

This shit don’t make no sense

I never thought I’d feel like this

You got me going around looking a mess

Always caught up in my head

Wondering if someone else is in your bed

I’m so fucking confused... and I feel a little used.

It’s like you know I’m sitting around waiting for you.

Not understanding why I do the things I do.

Figuring out how the fuck to get over you.

Just break it to me straight hit me with the truth.

Or flash that knife again and hit me with that sinfully sweet smile.

I should write you a song and watch you, watch me sing it to you all night long.

  Shit, we can even take a break and go hit the bong.

Man how wrong?.. but rule number one, tell no one

This poem is about: 


Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741