I read this earlier, and I’m loving it!

Wine and Tobacco

Writers rarely get a stage
On which we can bleed our veins
An outlet for inner rage
A place to show off our stains
We don’t get adoration
Or used for exploitation

We get smoky rooms in bars
Hours to destroy our liver
A notebook to place our scars
And nights alone to shiver
A life spent in poverty
When you’re writing poetry

Pull up a seat and share pain
I have nothing more to gain

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One thought on “Performance

  1. Madsies says:

    Indeed. Lovely.


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