Sick

By
I lie in bed
Drenched in my sorrow
Shackles always keep me down
I couldn't get up if I wanted to.

My mother comes in and asks me whats wrong.
I tell her nothing,
she thinks I'm sick
Vomity, throw up, medicine can fix it sick.

I'm not sick like that.





Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback