R.M. Davis

So it seems,
The Internet says something’s wrong with me,
And I believe that I must have a bad disease.
Possibly three…

Just like bad dreams,
Certain scary scenes seem to stick with me.
So certainly this scene I can't unsee.
Replaying eternally.

So some separation would be nice.
I know inside something has been hiding.
Come on, cut out all my lying!
I've been dying to live more happily.

Could it be?
I would have, but couldn't because of me.
You should have never taken my bargain plea,
Which shouldn't have been hard to foresee.

Since it seems,
I never really had a bad disease…
Turns out the disease was actually just me,
Forever infecting

Myself.

So some separation would be nice.
I know inside something has been hiding.
Come on, cut out all my lying!
I’ve been dying to live more happily.

--

--

How is it a mirror is simply a reflective glass plane,
When I can so clearly see it reflecting back my shame?

I'm sure that its dark magic,
As it shows me what I don't want to see.
Like the delusions blanketing my life
Draping me in false normalcy.

For normal is a product that comes from a familiar mold,
And I’m of a design that should never have been sold.

No one’s number one comforts
Should be alcohol and tobacco,
But everything’s a fiasco,
At least for a fuck up and wacko…

So I cant imagine ill be long for this world,
At least not the way I'm going about it…

But who knows,
Maybe one day ill be OK…
Maybe,

But I doubt it.

--

--

Home is where the heart is,
So I guess our homes are broken
We used to speak so truthfully,
When was it you’ve last spoken?

Life is what you make of it,
So I guess our lives are nothing.
Everything flounders and falls so flat
Like the people we considered loving.

Kindness makes the world go around,
So I guess we’ve all stopped spinning.
We hear that sadness is polluting the sky
From our TVs as we watch grinning.

If we are better safe than sorry,
It's safe to say we are in deep shit.
Nights are no longer starry,
So with only astroids left to wish upon
Let's make a wish that one will hit.

--

--

R.M. Davis

R.M. Davis

Mainly post poetry. Tends to lean towards the depressing side. Occasional attempts imploring my gallows humor. Likely an undiagnostic nihilists.