Bitter Paradise
Bitter Paradise
By kechi kenyatta / expired giant
Wed 31 Jan, 2018 16:08:32 EAT
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Bitter Paradise
Broken chairs,
Broken limbs,
Name not the bleeding heart,
Maybe it isn't my day.
I've always backed down,
Though backed up by the liquor
Only to jot down my life in my chair
My career to lay off my future
And now loneliness is my middle name
Sadness my pension to hang out with.
I'm an epitome of success
That's why my name is always kicked about
And now everyone trying to kiss up to my dreams
I got phlox for my flocks
And now I'm better off than the friar
Maybe that's why I lack even a fryer
A loud sigh is all that I always give
My prints prince a nightmare,
My problems broach the brooch in my stomach
Unveiling the slavery that enslaved me.
© Expired Giant
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