Crumple

The words, they taste like cough syrup
so you take them with a grain of salt
and shove them past the lump
that's built up in your throat.
And just 'cause life is like
a windchime, doesn't mean it's
a breeze.
I'm so tired of drowning in these
memories.
Drama tastes like powdered sugar
on candy apple lips
and the nonesense of the poems
spins 'round the universe of your head.

and then the poem is crap
and i hate it
and tha'ts the end.
thanks.

*crumples up paper*