Hope You

Everyone writes like its their last letter,
Their words written with passion,
Expressing internal bliss,
Maybe packed full of hate,
Lies left there to be expressed.

Deprived of the sleep I need to survive,
I've been thrown into the dirt,
Everyone says this poetry's here to express,
Take a chance, get up and explain,
Some day's my head hurts from you all,
Now its my turn to complain,
Driving these words into your face,
Contemplating my dismal,
Are you slowly dying in my suicide.

So, I hope you learn something.

Ian Robert Potapoff