At the Door

• 11/01/2006
• One-minute read

There’s a pebble in my shoe and it’s my tongue
When I’m alone I suck my thumb
My pillow, it always pulls my hair

I stopped asking, why life isn’t fair
My papers fall upon the floor
I hope that death is at the door
The game of life, I know the score.
I know that I’m only, just an eye sore.