In my life I long for thrill
That turns out like an oil spill
Those promises I can’t fufill
The jokes feel like a poison pill.
The memories I want to kill
Remedy of that hole to fill
And saturate my life until
Once again time stands still
Frozen over with an icy chill
To fix my wounds would take some skill.
Leave me alone with just my quill
Writing painful themes of joy turned ill
My words have racked up quite the bill
Having granted me love or dismal nil.