As I Lay In My Own Pity

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  • Death

    As I Lay In My Own Pity

    I lay in my own pity.
    I wake up in the ammonia scent.
    As I wish I were in the clean, fresh city.
    For maybe there I may even be content.

    I lay in my own pity.
    At one time She was witty.
    She was not just the witch.
    Why did I have to snitch.

    I lay in my own pity.
    Its finally my time.
    And I finally begin to drift.
    And this will be my last rhyme.

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    cmlestrade commented on As I Lay In My Own Pity

    08-22-2009

    Very good poem, leaves one curious. good rhyme and rhythm great effort.

    writingislove

    08/27/2009

    Thank you!

    Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

    Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

    writingislove’s Poems (29)

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    You Linger All Around 4
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    Its All A Lie In The End 3
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    Broken Young Soul 1
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