- Non-Erotic Poetry
- One Sunday Night
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One Sunday night I took a few pills
After I paid my water and gas bills
I needed to take some edge off myself
I nearly succeeded with ruining my health
The bottle said I should take 1 every 4 hours
I swallowed about 20, I was no coward
A vodka bottle lay on my side
Taking my stress off, I nearly died
I wanted to so bad I could even taste it
But, no, I’m alive, I hate this fucking shit!
Why can’t I die? Why can’t I die?
Another bottle of pills will do it
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