Broken life
My empty can of drugs,
and over used pills.
My dishevelled closet,
and bloody bruise.
It reminds of turmoil,
dragged over to the edge.
Sufferings delight me,
and reminiscence sucks!
My dusty half blank diary,
and broken pen.
My crumpled torn pages,
all scattered one.
It reminds of loneliness,
pinned up strong on wall.
Satan mocks at me,
and devil rise, above all.
