For all my life

There is something wrong with me
An empty mind, an empty broken heart.
There is something wrong with me
A bottle of Gin – My only answer.

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We Got Time

I wrote the following poem a long time ago, during my time of depression. Things have changed since then. Anyway, how does this piece come up to the surface after all the time? When I was cleaning my room, I found the verses on a crumpled note. I think this was a ‘kinda’ OK poem so I want to share with y’all.

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