I am astounded by the thoughts in my mind, and bounded by how they’ve brought what I find, the virtue so true, that some are blind to the ideas combined and they grow confined, yet confident, with confidants with confidential wants, with cons that correspond before any one responds they’ve broken bonds and they’re dating blondes, and their wives are at home trying to bronze, but they are far too fair, skin goes a rare red, she’s had her fair share, and she naps in her bed, while asleep the news of her husband had bled, about the blonde he stashes at work for head, she told him that to her he was dead, packed her bags and then she fled, threw a rock and bled his head.
Get AI Feedback on your poem
Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
If You Need Support
If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741