Poem -

Sins

I don't write tragedies.  
I write my Sins and Pin them to a Tin can on my Window pan and ask of me.
Why would I do this?
Who is this artist of such monochromatic calamities.
Running from the pedo truck
White and black, awful sounding
Daffy duck
Bill pronouncing
That I paid too much of my life just to be set free and chain myself again
My slavery is a choice, and the blackness shimmers so I'm convinced to stay again
Just one more night
My blood gets darker
Maroon 5 nights at Freddy's where I've got to stay awake to fight
That's why I write
My sins on the window pane
Before I break it, try to jump out, and feel a lot more than just the window pain.
 

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Poem -

Sins

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