t3chmonkey

(I haven't written any poetry in a while, so please tell me what you think. You can be mean, I can take it.)

Your lips are cracking from all your dry wit
your tongue is sticking, it's difficult speaking
with a mouth of glue, of frothy spit
And your eyes are burning dry
bleeding at the corners of your eyes
from the tears that you won't cry

And you're not looking too good
tough guy
Yeah, you're not looking too good
tough guy

And your hands are getting arthritic
from clutching at your chest
But you ignore your hurting
Because that's what you do best

Hold on
tough guy
this next thing just might kill you

Just a few more pounds of pressure
and your knees might finally give
You're breaths are slow and measured
is this any way to live?
It's not as though your unscathed
you've got a scar for every day
The road to hell for you is paved
And I think you know the way

So go on
tough guy
we are doing our best to kill you.

(uh, no title. Can you think of any?)