stoothman

I was going to write but I could not bring my self to do it.

I could be mean and nasty but I can not see my way through it.

You know what this is about and what I could not bring myself to do.

But I am sure that this will miss most every one but you.

I struggle and fight to try and make this right.

But in the end, it is not me sleeping through the night.

I contemplate the meaning of my thoughts.

While endless times I bring myself to conflict and to fought.

To me this really is not that fun or fair.

To survive I must end my care.



A silly little poem that came to me. :-)