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Sleep has left me
I have nothing to say
smells avoid me
I can't breath anyway.
My chest is conjested
my hair has gone flat
my dog ran away (not really, just left the room)
chasing after a cat.
My husband is gone
long gone away
which isn't to bad,
he wasn't that cool anyway (he went to work).
I'm so wicked lonley
my hose work is all done,
My kids want to play in the game room,
to me they're no fun.
I want to visit with sisters
of those there are many
but of those who are imunne,
there aren't any.
This poem is wicked bogas
my lungs are full of crap.
of a shower I am dreaming,
and maybe a nap.
This is the end,
there isn't any more,
if you don't see me at church,
I'm dead to the core.